


Money can't buy you love

by JamesHope



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Dean Winchester, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Boss/Employee Relationship, Business, CEO Dean Winchester, Dark, Dark Fic Fest, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dean Winchester Being an Asshole, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Famous Dean Winchester, Forced Marriage, Forced Relationship, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, In Public, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Drug Addiction, Playlist, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Public Humiliation, Recovery, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Sub Castiel (Supernatural), Wealth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 54,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22479511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesHope/pseuds/JamesHope
Summary: Dean Winchester is everything others aspire to be: a millionaire, handsome, famous and powerful. Everyone seems to worship the guy and throw themselves at his feet in hopes of gaining his attention, but not Castiel Novak.Mr. Novak, ambitious barrister at Wesson Law & Legal, hates Dean's guts with burning passion. After all, Mr. Winchester goes against everything he stands for. So when Castiel gets openly humiliated, a public display of power trying to make him bow down, he finally snaps and doesn't hold back when firing an insult at those arrogant green eyes.The perfect punishment comes from Mr. Winchester himself who draws up a one year contract of forced marriage and service, the only way for Castiel to save his own ass and avoid being dragged to court by the legal team of one of the most powerful CEO's in the country.It's an airtight plan: force revenge upon a person who can't stand you by making them bound to you for a whole year. But when Dean sees the tears in blue eyes after once again publicly insulting Castiel, something threatens to change. Not backing down however, he's determined to make Novak's life miserable because this was still a show of power, of discipline.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 385
Kudos: 376





	1. The wolves are closing in on me.

**Author's Note:**

> Promt by Nayna Dutt.  
> Written by JH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> "You captured me like an affliction."

If it wasn’t for the estimated 17.5 million he’d make out of this business idea in the first two years after launching, Mr. Winchester would have given up on the board meetings, negotiations and endless paperwork a long time ago. But truth be told, he had a fortune to uphold and more importantly: a reputation to keep.

As owner of Winchester International Co., one of the most successful and rapidly growing companies reaching far beyond the terrains of America already, the young millionaire was becoming a known player in the field, right along the top dogs and best of the best, much to his own delight.

Pitching the idea about a brand new factory on the banks of wealthy New Jersey had been a calculated risk, if they would indulge in this investment, it would be their most ambitious to date and it had left the attendees in the large meeting room quite breathless in all honesty.

Though, there’s something you should know about the world-renowned Dean Winchester: he’s the kind of guy that has people begging to be acknowledged by him, even if it’s just a split second of eye contact or a vague grunt in their general direction, it didn’t matter. Employees spared no shame in trying their very best to please and serve, hoping one day _they_ ’d be the ones in that famous conference room, wishing to belong to the intimate circle of Mr. Winchester’s most valued people who get first glimpses at the genius behind the man in close proximity. Up and personal.

For most however, that was but a dream. Never would they belong to that 1% that actually made it and they knew, leaving no option but to pick the crumbs off the ground like a pack of hungry dogs and having to be satisfied with what they’d been given. To some, actually seeing the man in real life was just that.

“Alright,” he announces firmly, clapping his hands just once which immediately makes the entire room go quiet, “let’s do this.” Dean Winchester is a captivating man, not only intriguing his ten best business partners currently before him, but even making people outside in the hallways stop and stare for a second as they just bask in his distant presence as if he was Jesus himself.

Mr. Winchester found that to be the most stupid comparison possible the first time he’d heard it. He never considered himself the _Messiah_ , why would he ever think of himself as one? That would implement he’s some kind of simple sheep herder and a saviour to said dumb sheep. No, Dean Winchester wasn’t just a basic leader, he was far _more_ than that.

Dean Winchester was a God.

Worshipped.

~

“I can’t fucking stand him.”

Before Castiel can even realize his mistake, taking back what he’d just said to save his own ass, his boss’s rough hands shove him against the elevator’s wall just a tad bit harder than strictly necessary which only adds to the severity of the threat that follows: “Don’t you dare fuck this up for us. I _will_ fire you.” It’s low and it’s predatory and leaves no room for argument. “Keep your opinions to yourself.”

Castiel nods quickly, straightening his expensive suit once Mr. Wesson lets go of him again.

Even though ‘Wesson Law & Legal’ is a firm of smaller scale, still on the rise amidst their unforgiving and crushing competition, Mr. Novak was well aware he was a nobody, easily replaced despite being one of their best barristers and thus nothing more than an obedient pup who should sit and shut up. At least in the presence of his master, or boss in this case.

In court however, a strong character was needed in order to represent clients who have found themselves in a difficult predicament because how will you defend them if you can’t even defend yourself? But this was no time for confidence. He should have known better.

The entire company had been tiptoeing ever since the announcement came that they were given the once in a lifetime opportunity to advise and represent the one and only Mr. Winchester on his complex legal journey towards yet another future business plan.

It goes without saying that setting schemes of such grandeur in motion only works when every last piece -down to the finest detail- is not just taken care of but pampered and spoiled to ensure happy little dollar bills make their way into the greedy hands of some big name CEO.

Unfortunately for Mr. Novak, the big name CEO requesting their undying love and respect in this make-or-break case was no other than Dean Winchester. The same Dean Winchester who went against everything Castiel stands for, the one that promptly makes him turn off the TV when that pompous ass makes yet another appearance,

The one who’s currently making his blood boil by simply being in the same room as he is.

~

The large lobby of the Hilton Hotel, exclusively rented for this particular event, is absolutely crowded and buzzing with a horde of reporters, cameras and C-list celebrity type business people all eager to catch a glimpse of the man of honour himself.

Castiel has to physically strain himself in order to not roll his eyes the entirety of the forced speech accentuated by fake smiles and pure big dick energy just radiating off the stage, filling the air with a musk of wealthy, white-privilege cockiness.

Even the questions about the impact of the new factory-to-be on the environment and public health are expertly dodged much to Novak’s amusement. More than once had he found himself at climate marches, trying to fight for a better world, so having to listen to lies upon lies about how a major scale industrial park isn’t a danger to people and animals alike is truly, utterly pissing him off beyond measure.

A deafening round of applause marking the end of a pretentious display just puts the cherry on top. But before he gets a chance to turn away and leave it all behind, Mr. Wesson is right there behind him, a firm hand on his back guiding him in the exact direction he had hoped to avoid all night.

 _‘Don’t you dare fuck this up for us’_ it rings in his head, reminding him of his slip up that might as well could have gotten him fired so he takes a deep breath in, lifts his chin, and puts on his best fake smile perfectly matching Mr. Winchester’s one as he approaches the gathering of chatters.

“Sam Wesson of Wesson Law and Legal.”

“Ah, good to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Wesson. And you are- ?”

“This is Castiel Novak,” Sam quickly chimes in when his employee does nothing but stare quietly, “he’ll be the one to represent you in court should you ever need it.”

Dean lets out a dark chuckle, unashamed as he judgementally rakes his eyes up and down Castiel’s body before responding; “I certainly hope it will never have to come to that”.

“No, of course not, Mr. Winchester. I’ll do everything in my power-“

“I’m sure, Mr. Wesson, but that’s not what I meant.” He interferes rudely. “I just hope it will never come down to _him_ representing _me_.” The acidity of the insult gets fortified by a smug grin, leaving Castiel completely speechless at the sheer audacity of the man.

Their little conversation is cut short when a reporter shoves her way through the countless of guests all huddling as closely as possible and nearly pushes her tape recorder in Dean’s face as she tries to counter by politely asking him if she might ask him a few questions.

Castiel is absolutely disgusted by how obvious it is the man only agreed to it because the young woman is sporting a nice décolleté great for keeping your interests high while being interviewed about the same damn issues all over again.

Midway through the flirting, sexually inappropriate comments and general male bravado, does Mr. Winchester suddenly notice that despite Mr. Wesson being long gone, Mr. Novak is still right there, staring him down with daggers in dark blue eyes.

“Just a second, sweetie.” He says while once again cutting someone off in the middle of their sentence. “What are you still doing here, Mr. Novak? If you want an autograph you’ll have to wait in line like everyone else, you’re not special. Besides, don’t you have something better to do?”

It takes a few stammering words before Castiel can actually comprehend what he just heard, looking at the bitchy frown accommodating an unsaid menace, a challenge to see if the nobody from some random law firm will actually dare to say something back. “Excuse me?!” Castiel eventually asks with as much of a dare to it as the eyes still regarding him as if he’s worth less than garbage on the street.

“I said you’re not special. It’s not because your boss was contracted by my legal team that you suddenly get any individual treatment or something because, well, I don’t care. You’re just another person who’s name I’ll never remember while mine will be up on the billboards again soon enough. So, like I said: don’t you have something better to do than waste my time here?”

Oh, bring it on. “Listen, Mr. Winchester,” he says surprisingly calm though dripping with sarcastic respect, “I know you think you’re all that, some untouchable prick who’s only at the top because his father had a lot of money, but you’re nothing more than a whiny asshole with daddy issues. Maybe if you didn’t have such a tiny dick you wouldn’t be trying to overcompensate with that big factory of yours!”

The second those words leave his mouth, Castiel knows it’s over for him and judging by the big crowd that had gathered around them, drawn in by the commotion and gasping at the two men, this was undoubtedly going to escalate into a full blown report, if not an actual lawsuit.

In that moment, he didn’t care, too angry and upset. He had always managed to smile through any abuse and pick his career over personal issues like a responsible adult yet this right here, being verbally degraded by a man he had already despised for years, had proven too much to simply let go.

He had been willing to give it a chance, for fuck’s sake, but he didn’t work his ass off to make a name for himself, only to be treated like his life meant absolutely nothing. It was plain humiliating and demeaning.

~

“What in the hell were you thinking, Novak?! No, you just shut up and listen! This was my one chance, my one chance, at getting my company out there and you blew it! You should count yourself lucky Mr. Winchester isn’t dragging your ass to court!”

Sure, Sam Wesson was a strict boss who yelled at him more than once, who even grabbed or yanked him harshly on a number of occasions but it had never phased him, Castiel always felt like he’d done something to deserve it and he was more than clever enough to know that a still relatively young company needed to be at its best 24/7 to insure success, no room for errors.

This wasn’t your regular angry speech, though. This was all boss-employee guidelines shoved aside, bringing this meeting down to a far more personal, and therefor critical, level. “You see this shit?” Sam yelled as he slid the newspaper across the table, “they included the company’s name in the article, of course they did!”

Castiel is quiet as a stares at the front page. “WINCHESTER UNDER FIRE AFTER HEATED ARGUMENT WITH LEGAL TEAM” it says, right above a picture of the man in question during the middle of his corporate cock-sucking speech. Castiel immediately boils with rage again as humiliation and shame come flooding back.

“You’re fired, Novak. Get the fuck out of my office!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * ...


	2. The Devil's gonna make me a free man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter : Broken Bones - Kaleo  
> "The devil's gonna make a free man, the devil's gonna set me free."

Despite how busy the hallways right outside the glass conference room are, the actual space is overwhelmingly quiet as Castiel and Sam wait there on their predicament, tension only building the longer it goes on.

Barely a word had been spoken between them ever since the, well, _fiasco_. Sam’s hateful stares saying more than enough and being plentifully accusatory. So much so that it actually made Castiel feel slightly bad about what he’d done. Not only did he possibly ruin his own career, he dragged Mr. Wesson down with him and that had been a low blow, even for him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting” a woman in a tight skirt hastily announces, “Mr. Winchester will be with you shortly.” Soon enough, the man makes his entrance, confident as ever and dressed in a suit that probably costs more than Cas’s entire yearly income.

“Have a seat” he says, voice stern. Skipping right past the formalities then. “So, Mr. Wesson, your employee here caused quite the uproar with his unacceptable behaviour.” Smug, little shit. “Y-yes, yes, I do apologize profusely, Mr. Winchester. I hope you can find it in your good heart to forgive this act of unprofessionalism by Mr. Novak.”

There’s a long pause, growing more awkward as it stretches on but it seems almost on purpose, the millionaire before them just toying with them, showing them he holds so much authority that he even decides when to speak and when to be quiet.

For the first time since their ‘meeting’ began, the man actually acknowledges Castiel and finally looks at him. With pure arrogance and anger, of course. “Mr. Novak,” a ridiculing grin audible in the words, “don’t you have anything to say on the matter?”

 _‘He has got to be kidding me’_ Castiel thinks as he looks towards his boss in a quiet kind of ‘save me’ way but he’s only met with another glare that almost physically hurts because of how murderous it looks. Fine. “I apologize, Mr. Winchester” he grits out forcibly.

“And?” Oh, for fuck’s sake. He turns his head away in annoyance for a second before snapping his eyes back up to meet those resting amidst a thousand freckles. “And what?” The response comes out a little more agitated than he’d expected, apparently it was harder to contain your frustrations when there’s a power hungry shmuck trying to beat you into submission with nothing but a smooth tongue and a gaze that makes you squirm.

“What are you going to do about it, Mr. Novak?” Even Wesson seems to shift in his chair by how challenging and _sexual_ that sounded. But Castiel isn’t some obedient, little bitch. He was going to show the prick that not everyone was willing to kiss his ass. So, as fake as he can, with a voice even more soft and needy, he shoots back. “What would you like me to do about it, Mr. Winchester?” Even going as far as to not-so-innocently fluttering his dark eyelashes in the process.

Maybe, just maybe he was not mistaken when he saw Dean’s breath hitch. “Glad you asked. I have a proposal.” And just like that, the perfectly composed business man is back without the slightest hint of discomfort previously shown. “I want you to marry me.”

Right then and there, Castiel loses his patience. He stands up quickly, shoving his chair back hard while doing so, and turns around in anger, having to take a few deep breaths with his hands on his hips before he can even begin contemplating actually wasting more breaths here.

“Mr. Nova-“

“No. I’m sorry, _Mr. Winchester_ , but what game is it that you’re playing here? I get it, you’re the boss, you hold all the power and you’ll ruin my life if I don’t obey. I know, but there’s no need for all this further degradation around it. Just give me whatever document I have to sign, whatever court date you’ve laid out for me, I don’t care, just get it over with!”

When he finally calms down enough he’s quite surprised to realize none of the two men in front of him had tried to stop him, nor had they interrupted him. One was too shocked and the other, the other was just looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a pissed, though also slightly impressed look.

But Dean doesn’t spare him another second of attention after that, simply turns towards Sam again and very calmly says “Mr. Wesson. It appears that you once again don’t have your employee under control. I feel personally attacked by him and it doesn’t seem like he’s willing to accept my deal. I was trying to be reasonable here, Mr. Wesson.”

Castiel swears that if there’s one fake tear accompanying that even faker helpless voice, he’s personally going to wipe them off the CEO’s face.

With his fists.

Through his boss’s desperate string of apologies and pleas, Cas now doesn’t even hold back to roll his eyes at Dean’s theatrical drama unfolding in the conference room, all that’s missing are the forced tears he’s just waiting on to fall. Exit, pursued by a dick.

“Very well then. If Mr. Novak has no decency to even listen to my proposal, I’ll go ahead and file the charges. See you in court, gentlemen.” Then, without further words, he picks up his notepad, stands up and makes his way out of the room without sparing any of the men another look.

Castiel should have seen it coming, the look in Wesson’s eyes being a fair warning, but the punch still literally knocks the air out of him as it lands square against the side of his face where it immediately leaves a throbbing ache spreading through his skin. “You go after him right now! I don’t care if you have to beg him on your knees. You will take that deal or I’ll make sure the charges are being shifted from the company to you personally. I don’t have to explain what it will be like to try and defend yourself against Winchester International, do I?”

Castiel knows he’s right, knows he’d never win in court and that the best case scenario would be his career ruined with the possibility of a hefty, monetary fine on top.

“Mr. Winchester?” Without a single word, nothing but a dirty regard, the CEO motions towards a different but equally empty meeting room and waits for Castiel to step inside before doing so himself. After another few deep breaths, Cas finally manages to speak up again. “I’d like to hear your proposal.”

But Dean ignores him, of course he does. “What happened to your face there?” He asks instead, pointing at the red and already slightly purpling spread on Cas’s cheek, eventually answering for him; “finally learned that your actions have consequences?”

If Cas could bite off his tongue to keep him from snapping back, he would. It would be easier. “What is it? I thought I was quite clear when I asked you not to waste my time. So, be a good boy and tell daddy what you want.”

“I swear to God, you-“

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.” Dean tuts, clenching his jaw before continuing, “I said, be a good boy. Don’t test my patience. I’m warning you, Mr. Novak, one more disrespectful comment and I’ll have security remove you from the building before you can even open your mouth again.”

~

It actually doesn't sound as bad as he initially thought. It sounds so much worse. But the one factor that really made this suck harder than Dean Winchester sucks dick for power, was Dean Winchester himself. Also, couldn’t he have gone for something more conventional like ‘personal assistant’ or ‘legal consultant’? Why did it have to be a marriage certificate?

Castiel suspected that was for the mere effect of making it all the more degrading because he was pretty sure a married man was still a free man, not forced to be at another man’s service 24/7 by means of a carefully made contract, not even for a rich and powerful player.

The whole thing had left him quite out of breath, a nervous tremble not letting go of his arms and legs as he grew more uncomfortable under the Winchester’s scrutiny by the second. It became quite clear that underneath all the power abuse and manipulative threats lay actual, ‘capable of destroying’ influence that could change life as he knew it in the blink of an eye.

Dean Winchester was more than able to ensure Castiel Novak would never find a decent job again, more than powerful enough to make Castiel go bankrupt and drowning in debt till the end of his days, and especially: more than loved enough to get out of this with barely a scratch while Castiel lay bleeding out in the street.

And Cas knew, he knew that if he didn’t take the deal, he might as well put an end behind his life and that wasn’t an understatement. What he did was stupid, he didn’t embarrass Mr. Winchester on a business level, he insulted him on a private level, instantly making this personal.

And if there’s one thing you don’t do, it’s starting personal beef with one of the most powerful and influential people in your country. To the outside world, Winchester International was the perfect, little family company. You know, the ones who are on the side of the people and whose records are squeaky clean. At least on paper.

But companies like these, run by men like Dean, were just a big fond for what actually went on behind the scenes. Mafia involvement wasn’t unheard of and if this man’s threat was holding as much truth to it as Castiel expected, he was in way over his head.

“If you don’t sign this, I will destroy you.” Mr. Winchester had whispered in his ear. Slow and deep before running his thumb over Castiel’s bruised cheek, pushing down the entire length of the painful area. “And this,” he chuckled while forcefully grabbing Castiel’s hand and pressing it to the small of his back where something was hooked under his belt, “this ain’t a fake one. And yes, it’s loaded. Now tell me, _Mr. Novak_ , who would come looking for you if you were to disappear?

That’s right. No one. Now sign the damn contracts.”

And so Castiel did, with trembling hands and fearing for his life.

He knew both pieces of paper officially weren’t legally binding in the court of law but for a man like Dean Winchester, capable of embezzling millions of dollars and finding no shame in rolling with gangs, making these seem viable probably was as simple as cooking an egg.

Besides, Madame Justice didn’t really matter here now, did she? Who cares about a code when you’ve got a prize on your head?

One contract, now adorned by his signature, was indeed meant to resemble a marriage contract, binding them together in a hateful act of rivalry masked by a pretentious act of love. This was the base of it all for it held the financial end of the entanglement, so long as Castiel followed the rules, it would protect him against any money related issues he might encounter.

The second contract was a longer one, and definitely not legal. It was full of overly complicated terminology and vague descriptions but Castiel understood just fine. Bottom line, it was forcing him to be available for Dean day and night without it ever telling him what exactly was to be expected which was precisely what made it dangerous because there were no rules nor limits imposed on his service.

One contract to protect him through financial security and one contract to protect Dean from Castiel’s possible defiance through a short leash, unconditional service and the power to kill.

“Tomorrow, 8 a.m.

I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you don’t show up, do I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * ...


	3. You better stay clever if you wanna survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter : Monsters - Ruelle, acoustic version  
> "You better stay clever if you wanna survive."

Dean can’t stop grinning as he slowly sips from his glass. He’d pulled out the expensive bottle of Scotch he’d been saving for a special occasion but this was a time for celebration, right? Just one week his life had slipped past his control, making him thoroughly agitated and furious about it. No one held a grip over Dean Winchester except Dean Winchester himself.

Not the reporter who decided to leak the audio, not the newspapers trying to drag his name through the dirt, and definitely not some nobody from a law firm he’d never heard of before. The bastard was going to pay for what he’d done. With one outburst this Novak guy had managed to push back the plans for the factory by a whole month and in Dean’s case, time meant money.

Now, he could have just taken it to court, demanded a refund for the lost income and a coverage for the made up emotional damage but where’s the fun in that? Truth was, he was bored. Sure, he slept with every person he desired, they were just holes he could fill anyway. But it was exactly their willingness that left him hungry for something more, for a challenge. It’s no secret that he likes being in control and gets off on showing his dominance through nothing but status and wealth, not just taking what he can but craving exactly what he _can’t_ get.

More than once in his life had he been called a ‘control freak’. Where it used to sting, it now only fuels his competitive side even more, because why should he care when he’s the one currently sipping from a nearly two thousand dollar bottle of Mortlach in his four million dollar villa?

It was an addiction, getting everything he wanted and then some more. So as soon as he realized he _wanted_ to make Novak’s life miserable for what the guy had done, Dean was dead set on achieving just that. A few phone calls and one night of sending three men out into the dark later and he had everything he needed to make sure the little saboteur was going to pay for mistakes made.

That night, Dean goes to bed perfectly content after a quick session of jacking off, his power over the blue eyed man entrancingly intoxicating.

~

“Good morning, Mr. Novak.” The man remains quiet which immediately wipes the smile off Dean’s face and makes him stop in his tracks. He wants to be respected. “Now, what do you say to your boss?” It takes a full ten seconds before Castiel finally answers with a forced out greeting. But that doesn’t satisfy Dean enough. “And what do you say to me for not pressing charges?”

‘Thank you’ Castiel croaks out dryly. “Ah, ah, thank you who?”

“Thank you. _Sir_.”

“Better. Go get me my coffee. Black, no sugar.” After his command, Mr. Winchester takes his usual place in the spacious office, sinking down in the comfortable chair and turning on his computer, ready to start the long day ahead, but when he looks up, Castiel is still standing there, unmoving.

“I asked you something, Mr. Novak. Why aren’t you doing it?”

This is fun, though his patience is running thin quite quickly.

“Is there a problem?” He asks when he receives no answer. It’s not a question, it’s a warning.

Castiel gets lost multiple times in search of the coffee machine. A place like this and they have no break rooms? No, it’s already ten minutes later when he figures out he has to go all the way down to the main floor where the company has its own little shop with hot drinks and pastries. He gets lost again on his way back so by the time he’s finally knocking on the glass door again, at least twenty-five minutes, if not longer, have gone by.

Mr. Winchester doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance, much less his disgust when he takes that first sip. “This coffee is cold. Bring me a new one, and this time, try doing it a bit quicker, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” The mutual eye rolling gets ignored. When he eventually manages to please the idiot with a fresh cup of scalding hot bean water, he instinctively sits down in one of the chairs in the office after Dean doesn’t give him any further attention. Big mistake.

“What do you think you’re doing? I don’t pay you to s-“

“You don’t pay me at all.”

“Hmm.” Dean nearly growls, leaning forward on his desk as he takes a long, hard look at Castiel, only talking again when the latter visibly falters under the pressure. “And here I was, thinking I’m paying you with my kindness and generosity, even after you caused me a great deal of hurt. Am I wrong, Mr. Novak?”

“Well, I-“

“Am I wrong?!”

“No.”

A pause.

“No, sir.”

~

The rest of the morning creeps by so incredibly slow that Castiel is convinced he’s going to lose his mind. At least the coffee run allowed him to stretch his legs and _do_ something but for the past three hours he’s been stuck in the same corner like a scolded child.

Only adding to his increasing insanity is Dean completely ignoring him, acting as if he doesn’t even exist. The man darts in and out of the office, answers phone calls, types up e-mails, takes the occasional sip of cucumber water (yes, really). However, not a single word has been said to Castiel since that morning. Mr. Winchester gives him not a single look, either.

When lunch time rolls around, Dean scatters out of the office again, this time taking his briefcase with him and Castiel panics for a second. Was he supposed to just wait there? But then the ginormous ass walks back in, seems to contemplate for a moment and then just grunts while vaguely motioning for Cas to follow him as he shoots through the doors again.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Before any further questions can be asked, Dean pulls out a shiny ring, holding it out towards Mr. Novak without an explanation. “We’re married now, remember?” Not in a thousand years did he expect the CEO of Asshole International to actually make that part of the deal go beyond what was drawn up in the contract but here he was, holding a ring that once again probably costs more than Cas's house, even if it looks second-hand.

“Am I supposed to wear it?”

“What else you gonna do with it? Please don’t try to pawn it in some scrawny shop. It was my father’s.” No matter how hard Castiel tries to find sadness in those words, he doesn’t find any, nothing but nonchalance and emptiness when spoken about the late John Winchester.

~

If he’d felt humiliated earlier, now was a good time to completely sink through the floor in shame as their driver comes to a halt and parks the Lincoln Continental in front of a type of restaurant so expensive they don’t even put prices on the menus. He doesn’t need to say anything for he’s certain Mr. Winchester knows perfectly well Castiel cannot afford this place on his median income.

On cue, green eyes turn to face him. They carry a soft expression though true and true as fake as it can be. “Don’t worry about money, lunch gets put on the company’s tab.” Well that’s a small relief. Nevertheless, Castiel doesn’t push his luck an only gets a small side salad and a glass of water despite of how hungry he still is. Dean on the other hand just. Keeps. Eating. How does the guy stay so skinny?

Lobster, Caviar, truffles, gold plated hipster bullshit, you name it. And of course, all of it is washed down with wine that even _smells_ expensive. Dessert is a shot of their finest bourbon.

“I, uh, need to use the restroom.” He’d been needing to go ever since he brought that stupid cup of coffee to the office but he’d been too ashamed to ask sooner and now it was starting to become uncomfortable to say the least.

“No.” Is all he gets for an answer, Mr. Winchester still indulged in his dining and not even granting Castiel eye contact like he’d done for the past forty-five minutes. It was unnerving and dehumanizing to be treated like a dog.

Actually, no. People in a place like this are the kind of owners who have designer pooches who in turn wear Versace clothes and walk their paws around town in Gucci shoes. So, yeah, he was worse off than these millionaire’s Goldendoodles and Yorkipoos. 

“Am I not allowed to pee on my own accord?”

“No.”

“That’s just a step too far, don’t you think? Besides, I have a really small bl-“

“I said no.”

The man’s voice was naturally deep but holy hell, when he got angry or impatient it dropped impossibly lower, shutting Castiel up and even slightly intimidating him as that thunderous growl mixed in with the already authoritative tone just snarls at his vulnerable throat.

“Everything in order, Mr. Winchester?” the waiter asks, then politely nods at Cas. “Sir.” After confirming that, yes, everything was ‘divine’ their plates and glasses are carefully being stacked and ready to be taken away when the waiter speaks up again, “Putting the bill on your tap, sir?” ,already slightly taking a step back because he probably gets the same answer every time.

But when Dean declines, there’s another courteous nod and polite smile. “Very well, sir. Any compliments?” Mr. Winchester grins darkly at that, eyes a tad too enthusiastic for Cas’s liking. “Twenty.” He answers and the waiter thanks him with words Castiel doesn’t even understand.

The owner of the restaurant personally handles the bills here it seems or maybe he just has a more intimate bond with Mr. Cock sucker. Novak recognizes the man immediately from various blogs, awards and cooking shows on TV but seeing him in person isn’t nearly as enthralling.

He’s not paying attention to them anymore and only notices the two men are saying their slow goodbyes when Dean is already standing up and pulling on his navy cashmere coat. When the owner goes to hand over the lacquer wooden box containing the bill, there’s a soft chuckle.

“Oh. No, no, he’s got it.” Dean explains. “Don’t you, Mr. Novak?” But before Cas can utter another word, defend himself, anything, Dean has his back turned on him already, motioning to the valet to notify the personal driver.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester! See you soon.” Once hands have been shaken and expensive cars have departed, the older man makes his way back over to Castiel, blissfully unaware of what’s going on as he very politely asks which type of card the payment shall be made with.

Castiel hands over his Visa with trembling hands, heart already sinking before even daring to confront the numbers on that paper. What he reads surpasses even his wildest expectations. One meal came down to a figure that exceeded half of his monthly income.

Amount: $1.875, 00

Tip: 20% = $375, 00

Total: $2.250, 00

The owner nods politely. Cas nods politely.

Cas finally goes to the bathroom, breaks down crying, waits till he’s presentable once more, walks all the way back to Winchester International, breaks down in the glossy elevator again.

“Why are you crying?” The question actually comes out rather docile compared to the harsh behaviour portrayed throughout the day, as if Mr. Winchester is taken aback by the fact his asshole-ness does, in fact, have an impact on some people but that’s about it. He stands up from his chair, walks around to the front of his desk and then leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches a struggling Castiel with a disinterested look.

“When you’re done crying and whining, I want a fresh cup of coffee. Black, no sugar, quick delivery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * ...


	4. Goddamn right, you should be scared of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Control - Halsey  
> "Please stop, you're scaring me."

He’d been checking e-mails all night, finally having some time to catch up after wasting his entire day being Mr. Winchester's lap dog and chew toy simultaneously. Purposefully ignoring the message from Wesson had only worked up until a point where there were no other unread correspondences. Castiel had even clicked through every promotional add and spam trash before finally opening the inevitable termination notice now mocking him in that professional lingo delivering such dreadful news.

Being fired was one thing but becoming a personal servant to the world’s number one Asshole™ truly gutted him in no way even his dishonourable discharge from Wesson could do, with or without the threats made on his life. If he was chained to this contract for a whole year, it also meant he wouldn’t even have time to start his search for a new job, if he’ll ever manage to find one again. What about rent?

 _Shit_. He hadn’t even thought about that. No job means no income, and no income means no greens for the beans. Just imagining the conversation he’d need to have with Mr. Winchester to address this issue not only left him feeling clammy and uneasy, it also immediately sent a new wave of humiliation down his very bones. A feeling he’d grown quite close with at a rapid rate.

All his life he’d been forced to stand up for the little guy, him being the little guy in this scenario, as he fought bravely for a place among those living a relatively comfortable existence, kicking his way through hardship and rejection by never backing down and always, always getting up on his feet again. Keep grinding, you know?

Having to submit to this man, the hand pushing him to his knees being forged from power abuse and oppression, was shameful in every sense of the word. Submission should come naturally, willingly, definitely not stemming from choiceless self-preservation.

Yet here he is, buzzing with anger as he reminisces about a day that was filled with nothing but involuntary capitulation like the coward he is. Dean Winchester might threaten him with a loaded weapon but surely the man couldn’t actually get away with murder, right?

Right?

Closing his laptop with a sigh that came uncomfortably close to resembling defeat, Castiel decides to clock off for the night, trying not to think too hard about how he has to be back at that damned office in less than nine hours because no amount of overthinking was ever going to mentally prepare him for the fuckery happening at Hypocrite Headquarters. 

Not even half an hour after he falls asleep –or at least, that’s what it feels like- there’s a phone call snapping him out of whatever dreamless blackness he was floating around in. Castiel is up in a flash. If someone calls in the middle of the night it must be an extreme emergency and those types of distress signals are not something anyone wants to hear, ever.

But when he swipes across the screen and presses his ear to it, eyes still closed in half-slumber, he’s met with a sharp exhale of breath that almost sounds like an amused huff, followed by a “rise and shine, pumpkin!” _Nope. Nuh-huh. Just no._

He hangs up without a second thought. Having been ordered around, forced to suffer financially and brought to tears had been bad enough during daytime, and even though he knew it was undoubtedly up for repetition today, it would have to wait till the sun had actually risen for it to get a grip on him. The digital numbers indicating five-thirty in the morning said enough; Mr. Winchester could kiss his ass.

Or at least, that was the game Castiel thought he could play because a whole, generous ten minutes later, his phone rings again, this time dragging him up and into a fully awake state though none the less pissed off. “What?” he snaps, breathing hard as he waits for the response. “Not a morning person are we, Mr. Novak?” Even in words rumbled in a deep voice, Castiel could hear exactly what a tit-playing, cock-sucking, ass-licking twat this man exactly was. It almost makes him laugh. _Almost_.

As if said nipple-biting idiot could hear his words and insults, the silence between them is finally broken by words that in any other scenario would send shivers down Cas’s spine but right now are leaving him as unaffected as watered down liquor after seven.

“You should show me some respect.”

“Fuck off.”

~

“What do you mean, ‘no’?!” Castiel was absolutely furious. He’d been arguing with the security guard for a solid five minutes already but he’d been denied access to the building for just as long. How was he supposed to please His Majesty up there when he couldn’t even get past the entrance? “Can I just talk to Mr. Winchester?” Another request denied.

Staring down an armed, glorified doorman apparently wasn’t the best tactic but it was all he could come up with when words obviously fell short and weren’t getting him any closer to the office his presence was supposed to be requested at.

 _Fine, if that’s how we’re doing this_. One agitated sigh later, Castiel accepts defeat, leaving the premise behind but of course not before giving the man twice his size a _very_ judgemental squint. Now it was his turn to make a move so he sets up his game in the bistro across from Winchester International as he waits for a time to strike.

It’s nearly two in the afternoon when he finally spots Dean descending the big marble stairs leading down into the large entrance hall. The man looks in a hurry as he crosses the neatly polished floors with a quick pace to his stride, already motioning to his driver to get the car warm and running. No time to waste, it seems. Perfect.

Castiel gathers up his stuff and makes sure to grab the monstrosity of a pink smoothie before staggering through the avenue’s busy traffic. Surprisingly, he makes it to the other side of the four lanes in one piece, just in time to see the CEO bolt out of the glass doors.

An Hermès suit is being smoothened, Berluti dress shoes click against the pavement, Versace’s gold shimmers in the sunlight. Class, elite, luxury. If it wasn’t for the vulgar tool prancing around in them, Castiel might have actually enjoyed the elegance. Hey, a man can dream, alright? Today however, the finesse is exactly what he needed to create a small crack in the otherwise flawless ensemble.

He stumbles, entirely on purpose, and runs straight into a certain green eyed CEO. “Oh, no, oh, I’m so, _so_ sorry! Please, forgive me!” Castiel rambles as he stares at the pink drink currently dripping down the silk-cashmere mix in fake panic. “Please, let me- let me help!” But his arm gets forcefully grabbed before it can even reach the ruined suit, a body guard promptly leading him away from the entourage and from the commotion he’d caused.

Mr. Winchester’s wardrobe? _Very_ expensive. Mr. Winchester’s distressed face as he looked down at the disaster and then realized who was behind it when staring right at his untrained, untamed toy dog? Priceless.

_Knight to d4._

~

With nothing else to do besides enjoying his little victory, Castiel heads back home. If Mr. Winchester truly was so desperate to have his ‘servant’ by his side, he should have let Cas into the building that morning and not have his security block the door with two hundred pounds of ego. His loss.

Maybe he could finally read that book he’s been keeping next to his bed, or perhaps he could even visit that art museum down on 10th? Whatever shall he do with the first free afternoon in years? A shower first, for sure. That’d allow him to discard of the clothes that had gotten equally splattered with pink goo during his _accidental_ run in with Mr. ‘Five in the morning is a reasonable time to wake someone up’.

The image of Dean’s face makes him chuckle to himself all throughout his scrubbing and private concert. There’s something deeply satisfying in making someone that puts so much effort into keeping up perfect appearances falter and crumble and watching their pretend flawlessness lose all composure along with all self-control.

He feels awfully relaxed when he gets out of the shower twenty minutes later and to his surprise, not a single phone call nor text had popped up on his screen so far. Maybe showing Mr. Winchester that not everyone was willing to suck his toes actually worked? Did he just succeed in making the man back down a bit?

Anyway, who cares? Not Castiel. He had food to eat, books to read, a cock to tug and a museum to visit, maybe even do some window shopping, who knows? But before he can even make it out of the building, his peaceful tea-sipping time gets unapologetically disturbed by the ringing of his door bell. No one ever came to his house except for the occasional Jehovah’s witnesses so it’s with a practised bored look that he eventually answers, excuses to shoo them away already in the back of his mind.

“Yes?” he asks slightly hesitant the second he realizes this definitely is not some church boy. “Castiel Novak? Mr. Winchester requests your presence at his office.” It’s clear by the way this bear of a guy is staring him down that this isn’t a polite question open to be answered only after weighing out all the options. There’s only one right answer here yet he hesitates.

“Mr. Winchester requests your presence _now_ ” the Dominic Toretto looking type emphasises for him as if he’s a dumb child incapable of recognizing a threat when being intimidated by one. A glistening gun tucked tightly against the guard’s flank is all the convincing he needs.

~

Trying to explain that he knows the way up to the office is futile, these two body builders seem brainwashed into escorting him up to the fourteenth floor and personally delivering him to the CEO like a wrapped present, bow and all.

He gets roughly shoved into the meeting room but quickly puts a stop to his verbal battalion the second he realizes they’re not alone. Just a few feet behind Dean is another armed guard, undoubtedly trained (or rather: paid) to protect the man’s every ounce of petite ass.

The whole situation is oddly unnerving and got real serious real quick. It was nearly identical to every gruesome movie scene where some unimportant, dispensable character first gets brutally tortured and then murdered without the world ever batting an eye.

What’s even more unsettling beside the homicidal vibe in the closed off space is how Mr. Winchester hasn’t said a single word about Castiel’s behaviour. Not about the dismissal at early hours, not about the vulgar language, not even about the liquid crime.

“Mr. Novak,” the man finally speaks up, “or should I say, dear husband?” If Castiel’s look of confusion had been noticed, it was duly ignored, Dean simply continuing his icy cold string of words while walking closer and closer with a calm, collected pace. Almost _too_ poised. 

It’s perfectly clear Castiel can barely inhale due to the fear gripping at his chest when Mr. Winchester comes to a stand still only inches away from his slightly trembling shoulders, which is exactly why the millionaire stays there, breathing down his neck.

“We’re going public tomorrow, _Mr. Novak_. In case it wasn’t clear, that means you’ll not only be closely observed by me, but also by my hoard of dedicated fans, and of course; by the general people of America. One slip up, one step out of line, and you’re dead meat, you disappear without a trace. Do you understand?” Castiel has to swallow thickly as he not only hears but also feels the gun pressed to his lower back cocking. “Yes, sir.”

_Check. Mate._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * ...


	5. She doesn't know that you treat me wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Are you satisfied - Reignwolf  
> "There's nowhere to go, I've been paralyzed."

Dean Winchester is a cold man. Not the kind of cold that softly nips at your cheeks, not even the kind that sends uncontrolled tremors down your back, but a degree of Arctic elements so intense it puts raw ice to shame. Even behind pearly white teeth that ironically resemble shimmers of glaciers can Castiel see the bloodthirsty depths of a devil in disguise, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

But he seems to be the only one.

“I can’t- I can’t afford this.” He’d already whispered multiple times as the tailor measured every inch of his frigid body, not paying attention to him in any way. All of it feels so unnecessary and out of place. The way gloved fingers trail along three piece Fioravanti suits, how Jean Patou’s ‘Joy’ hangs in the air pleasantly, even the pencils are designer and it makes Castiel feel like his own skin isn’t worth enough to be touching anything in the private room of this haute couture house.

He’d never felt as objectified before as under Mr. Winchester’s gaze when stepping out of that dressing room. Those eyes were on him like a predator’s, gauging every unsteady exhale and volatile twitch, deciding whether or not this loot was worth any of his further time.

“Hmm” came the dull opinion after some agonizingly uncomfortable seconds, “Yes, that will do. At least he doesn’t look like a peasant anymore.” _Excuse me, I’m right here_ … “I can’t afford this.” Castiel tries once again, however painful it may be to admit when standing amidst such luxury occupied by none other than the elite themselves. “Consider it an engagement gift.” Mr. Winchester sighs, unimpressed.

When Cas hurries out of the changing area again –dressed in his own modest suit now- there’s no sign left of their backroom activities continued until mere minutes ago. The CEO and his entire escort have disappeared without a clue, and more importantly: in the absence of a single word on what’s to expect of Novak now.

It’s far beyond an acceptable time to be outside and asking lone pedestrians for directions without being clocked as a paedophile, but does he have a choice? Castiel hasn’t the slightest idea of where he’d been driven to earlier that night, doesn’t know if they’re even in the same state anymore. Rubbing his trembling hands over tired eyes, he makes his way to the exit, surprised to see not even the tailor nor the owner are in sight any more but he knows better than to touch anything, even in the dark does he know those price tags easily surpass six digits.

A small piece of paper on the counter catches his attention.

_Get a cab.  
Tomorrow: 7 am, office._

_\- DW_

Next to it is a fifty dollar note, how generous. At least it ensures he can finally get out of the place because both his wallet and phone had hastily been left behind when he got snatched from his house quite unexpectedly that afternoon. The armed man showing up on his front porch suddenly felt so distant, so long ago already, while in reality not even twelve hours had gone by since then. It’d been a draining day and Castiel just _craved_ to go home like he’d never desired before.

~

“Any family members you want to contact?” Dean asks casually.

“You make it sound like I’m about to get murdered.”

“Cross me and you might.” The chuckle and airiness behind those words don’t fool Castiel, he knows there’s a truth hidden in there that’s not to be taken lightly. “My brother,” he finally manages to answer, “I probably have to call my brother.”

When Mr. Winchester hands him a phone along with a pre-written message, Cas is forced to remove his hands from where they’d previously been trying to veil his almost fully naked body. It’s not like he was ashamed of his physique, sure, he could probably gain some mass where he’d gotten a bit on the thin side after treating himself to nothing but microwave dinners like the man on a budget he is, but having to stand there in just his black boxers with three pairs of eyes on him was definitely far beyond the measures of his comfort zone.

His task is plain and simple. “Only what’s on the note, Mr. Novak.” He nods.

“Hey, Gabriel. Yes, yes- listen, I’m good, now listen. I’ve got some news.” _Don’t screw this up, Cas. Stay calm._ “I’m getting married.” The man instantly falls into a fast tracking pace of excited chatter when hearing the announcement and Castiel would let him were it not for an increasingly impatient-looking _husband to be_ staring right at him.

“Dean Winchester. Indeed, owner of-, yes. No, I’m not kidding.” _Okay, here goes_. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you earlier. It will be announced publicly so we’ve had to keep this secret until now. I hope you understand.” The words sound even more vile when their lying nature is being transferred from paper to his own untrustworthy voice, but he powers through. He has to.

Luckily for him, Gabriel is supportive, if only slightly astonished by the whole situation. Castiel lets out a little breath of relief when handing the phone back to Mr. Winchester because he doesn’t know what he would have done if his brother started asking all the wrong questions, unknowingly backing him into a possibly fatal corner by doing so. “ _Good boy_.” Dean purrs into his ear mockingly.

~

It’s almost cynical, having to stand there while listening to another one of Winchester’s business presentations about that damned factory since that’s specifically what got him in this situation in the first place. Knowing what he knows now, which is whom exactly he decided to provoke a week ago, he evidently would’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut.

One of the guards standing in the crowd with him grabs his arm tightly but when Castiel looks up at the man, those dead eyes are still unmovingly trained on their target that’s to be protected at all times: Dean Winchester. A noisy yet perfectly controlled round of applause lets Cas know the reason behind the warning gesture. It’s time.

“Now, I have another announcement for you.” Mr. Winchester smiles, looking right at the dozens of cameras, eyes twinkling whilst the crowd starts murmuring in excitement. “I’d finally like to introduce someone to the world, someone very dear to me.” The fucker even goes so far as to take in a deep breath, pretending to get a little overwhelmed before extending his hand towards where Castiel is standing between the hundreds of high society guests, staring up at him. “Mr. Novak.”

The attention deprived, gossip hungry snobs eat it right up. From the moment Castiel is guided towards the stage up until the point where Dean politely closes the event for the night, the cameras never stop clicking, wishes keep flooding in and comments on how good and _happy_ they look together continue to be made all throughout.

Castiel feels like crying the entire time, only, it’d been made exceptionally clear that if he were to mess this up in any way, the consequences weren’t going to be pretty at all. Going public with their ‘engagement’ had one advantage however: it meant that for the time being, Dean had to keep him around because otherwise it’d raise some questions not even Mr. Smooth-talker could justify.

None of that seemed to bother the man though. _Au contraire_ , he was his usual, charming self: keeping one arm around Castiel’s waist and laughing ever so sweetly as they made their way through the almost impenetrable swarm of people suddenly overly interested in their private, pretend life.

‘ _Maddening’_ was putting it lightly when talking about how that very hand would gently rest against his side when they were facing yet another aristocrat of sorts, but held him with a grip capable of bruising whenever no onlooker was there to see, pinching painfully in-between friendly chatter and plastic smiles. If Castiel didn’t know better, the act was almost believable.

“Alright, let’s call it a night.” Dean barks at the guards once they’re out of the foyer. Three men scramble right away, getting everything in order from bringing the cars around to ensuring the chosen exit is free to use all while their employer’s safety is closely monitored without fault. It’s in that moment Cas realizes these men would probably use him as a human shield should there ever be any sense of danger threatening the princess’s ass over there.

“Where to, sir?”

“Home. Then drop him off.”

“Very well, sir.”

For once, Castiel was guided into the Lincoln alongside Dean instead of shoved towards one of the back-up SUV’s but of course, it was simply to please the public’s watchful eye as they were sent off with another round of cheers and flashing cameras before finally, _finally_ , being at ease.

Luxury comes at a prize apparently, that price being awkwardness and uncomfortable silence because you see, cars like these were specifically made to be quiet. Mr. Winchester might not care, he hadn’t said a word to Castiel all night anyway and probably doesn’t give a single fuck, but for Cas on the other hand, it brought along a great deal of anxiety.

Men like Dean, perfectly content with compulsive lying, manipulation and abuse, were highly unpredictable and capable of pretty much anything. Why would you worry when you possess enough power and wealth to make nearly any problem go away without as much as having to break a sweat?

“Aren’t you going to suck my cock or something?” _Ah, there it is. The ultimate epiphany._

“I’m- I, I- sorry?”

“Ain’t that what couples do after shit like this? You know, celebrate?” The way Mr. Winchester says it is so impassive and detached that it instantly replaces the uneasiness Cas felt earlier with straight up cold fear. He’d thought about it, more than once; speculating just how far this man would go with the abuse of power he held. What exactly is this pretentious individual capable of?

Murder? That Castiel knew already. But what about physical abuse? Torture? Rape? 

“This,” Mr. Winchester grits out before aggressively grabbing Cas’s hand and pushing it right against the hardness clad in expensive, tight fabric, “you know what to do with it, don’t you?” But Castiel yanks his arm back as hard as he can, firmly shaking his head and watching the capitalist in fright as he tries to scoot away impossibly further. “No, no, please, don’t.”

The hard smack against his cheek stings long after it’s been delivered, easing only when a pain greater than the blow takes its place under the form of a hand roughly grabbing his hair and trying to pull him closer between open legs. “Please, no- sir.”

That finally does it. A second later he’s back up in a sitting position, body firmly pressed against the car’s door as he tries to catch his breath and steady his violently shaking limbs. “Fine.” Dean scowls. Then, after only a split moment of musing: “I still want to be pleased, Mr. Novak and I always get what I want.”

Shamelessly, the billionaire unzips his dress pants and pulls out the hard cock, wasting no time in stroking it while never breaking eye contact with Castiel. He finds it absolutely delicious when blue eyes can’t stop themselves from flickering down and then back up quickly. Even if it’s just that one time, it’s nearly enough to make him cum from the thought alone. But this is even better, getting to stare straight at the tears rolling down a flushed, scared face, every raw emotion of vulnerability laid out just for him and him alone.

“Call me sir again.”

Castiel knows better than to resist or refuse. There’s no escaping, nowhere to hide, so he swallows thickly and takes in a flimsy breath before weakly letting it out again.

“Sir.”

Cum stains his pants, moans cover his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * ...


	6. Blood cold as ice and a heart made of stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Horns - Bryce Fox  
> "He's got blood cold as ice and a heart made of stone."

“Darling, imma let you in on a little secret: you don’t get to say no to me. Understand?” Comparing Dean’s demeanour to a vulture’s wouldn’t bring the current situation much justice. A vulture waits till the throat has been slit, watches from the side-lines until it’s his time to strike, and though he might fly high above the predators, he’ll always be beneath them on the food chain.

The way Castiel is being backed up against the wall, his opponent’s teeth already bared, comes much closer to glowing eyes dangerously lingering from the shadows, cast on the wounded animal within their trajectory and not letting go. All that’s left to do, is go in for the kill.

“Was I clear?” Mr. Winchester asks as intrusive hands come to rest on the very suit he had custom made for Castiel the previous night. When there’s no verbal answer, only a quick series of nods, he pauses for a moment and then yanks Cas impossibly closer, noses almost touching.

The slight flinch when one of his hands shoots up is riveting but he holds back, grips the navy tie instead and pulls on it a bit. “It was crooked.” Is the only thing he says when looking back up. Seeing how unravelled those blue eyes are beneath his gaze is inexpressible and for the second time that evening, he has to really hold back to not take this man apart with irreversible damage.

“You know,” whispers Dean, hands sliding down Castiel’s ribs, “you’re actually pretty attractive” he confesses as undaunted fingers travel further down until they’re gliding over smooth, soft curves, turning demanding once they’ve snatched their price. They squeeze hard, dig into flesh with every intention to hurt, to own. “ _Fuckable_ ” Dean groans.

“Too bad such a body is wasted on a person like you.”

~

Castiel is absolutely exhausted the following morning. Their so called engagement party had continued well into the night and it had taken everything out of him to fill hour after hour with forced smiles and good behaviour. His thighs were bruised, blue and purple seeping down once unstained skin from where Mr. Winchester had dug his nails into them all night. For every made up story Dean produced for the guests at their table, there was a quiet warning to keep smiling, taking its form through hurtful tweaks and grasps hidden under marble tops.

Even as he makes his way through the immense building that is Winchester International Co., he can still feel how his legs complain with every little step he takes but he’s got to smile through it. And the reason behind that is how he suddenly gets noticed by people. Employees beam at him now, nodding politely as he passes them. Some even blush a little bit. Before this _entanglement_ , he was just another nobody trying to get by on a daily basis but now, after the public announcement, his face was in every newspaper and on every online blog that cared enough about the romantic life of a certain millionaire.

It was weird, seeing picture after picture of himself standing next to the man on stage. There were even snaps of them as they excited the building that night, blurry and dark but probably enough to satisfy the people wanting to know this exciting couple’s every move. Of course each article couldn’t seem to shut up about how overjoyed they are with the wedding and what an _inspiration_ it is for a man of such status to openly share his gay relationship. It makes Castiel sick.

When he enters the office, he’s surprised to see Mr. Winchester isn’t there yet, though secretly, he’d half expected the man to be late or not show up at all after their late night activities anyway. Might as well get the usual cup of coffee then because he was not in a mood to be yelled at today.

The minute Anna spots him coming down the intricately carved stairs, she smiles at him and immediately starts working on the drink, already knowing Castiel is on his way to order for Mr. Winchester, same as every morning.

This time however, after her usual chipper greeting, she makes a second cup of coffee, placing it down on the counter as she winks at Castiel. “On the house.” Seems like being the CEO’s fake fiancé does come with some advantages after all.

It’s just a split second, but Cas finds himself skimming his eyes over the freshly baked and still warm assortment of croissants, muffins and various pastries. Not for himself, for Mr. Winchester. “Anything else?” Anna asks curiously. Her question startles him a bit, like a child getting caught in the act of doing something it shouldn’t, so he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, uh- thank you.”

 _What in the hell, Novak?_ As he downs his own coffee quickly, certain Dean would not approve of him slacking on the job, he can’t stop thinking about his near slip up. Why would he even consider bringing food along with the beverage? Castiel eventually convinces himself the thought came forth from self-preservation, a way for him to please the guy in order to gain some advantage in this biased affair.

It’s nearly eight-thirty when he makes it back, yet the CEO still isn’t anywhere to be seen and Cas starts wondering if Dean will show up at all today. He just hopes that if the man does, it will be soon because feeling how noticeably the cup in his hand is cooling down already gives him that jittery kind of anxiety. Handing over cold coffee would be worse than if he’d simply be late with the order, thus making his plan entirely backfire.

All he can do is stand there and wait, at least he’s not being yelled at so, it’s not like he cares. Cas just takes his time to let his eyes wander around the big office space. The lack of glass walls like in the conference rooms actually gives it a slightly warmer feeling, especially with the morning sun reflecting off the variety of shiny objects placed all around. From silver stationery, to polished awards and chrome details decorating the wooden desk and matching cabinets.

The view from up there is quite breath taking. But what draws him in after staring at the displayed diplomas for way too long, are the double doors on both the left and right flank of the office. They lead to connected rooms, that much he knows, but he doesn’t know _which_ rooms exactly. To his knowledge, they’re always locked and he’s never seen Mr. Winchester go in any of them.

Castiel shrugs, guessing one is an extra place for meetings or storage perhaps and the other one could be a private chamber, maybe even a boudoir, who knows? He’s ready to leave to go and ask someone if they could give him more info on the boss’s whereabouts when a loud crash against the doors on his left make him flinch, nearly spilling coffee all over the shiny floors.

Half of him wants to go investigate while the other half of him screams he should mind his own business but before Castiel can beat himself up over the choices, the answer presents itself quite clearly; an out of breath and rather dishevelled looking Mr. Winchester stumbles out of the adjacent room, lipstick still smeared across his neck and even tinting his own lips a bit. Right behind him, an equally tousled woman walks through the open doors while still zipping up her dress pants and smoothing down disturbed fabric.

Both of them come to a halt when finally noticing Castiel. The poor woman looks as if she’s about to pass out from shame, cheeks reddening and eyes wide with shock. “Mr. Novak!” She chokes out before letting out a string of incoherent words only vaguely sounding like apologies. But Mr. Winchester is there to save the day. Ever the gentleman, is he not?

It’s dripping with sugariness when he shushes her. “No, no, no, sweetheart, it’s alright!” He even goes as far to slide one of his hands up and over her chest until it rests right below her jaw, tilting her head towards him a bit. “Mr. Novak is okay with this.” Dean keeps his eyes trained on Castiel, their Jade-like colour demanding to be looked at as he pushes his tongue back in the woman’s mouth and starts kissing her obscenely, dirty moans included, until they’re both gasping for air again.

To say it makes Cas extremely uncomfortable is a huge understatement. He knows he accidentally got caught up in something he rather would’ve averted and though the normal reflex in similar scenarios is to turn your back and run, the gaze currently sticking to his skin his holding him captive, silently claiming him.

Castiel is well aware the pornographic display is nothing more than a provocation, the ultimate show of dominance with no purpose other than to make him squirm. And it’s working. He has to swallow hard when Dean finally removes his lips from the woman’s, both men breaking eye contact for the first time since that whole scene started but where he is left breathless, Mr. Winchester seems completely unabashed by it all as he casually wipes the red stains from his skin and guides the lady out of his office.

“Don’t look so hurt, dude.” Comes the snide remark upon the man entering the room again. “I’ll let you join next time.” _Hurt?_ _Shit_. He wasn’t hurt, couldn’t be. There’s not a reason in the world he should even remotely care whom Dean sleeps with or what the man does in his downtime for that matter. But if he didn’t care, why had he felt flickers of disappointment when seeing the couple still reeking of sex coming through those doors? Why’d he feel a wave of jealousy?

By the time he can get his mind to start working again, it’s too late. Mr. Winchester'd already crept into his personal space again with the same predatory deadliness as shown the night before. It’s easy, going in for the kill, when your prey has nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, so Dean just goes for it, closes his claws around the prize and squeezes.

“Really, Mr. Novak?” He condemns, “one dirty look and I got you all hard? Are you _that_ desperate?” The humiliation and insults should snap him out of it, not to mention how utterly and undeniably wrong it is, but the hand on his cock, the body against his own… The sheer _dirtiness_ of it all, has him reacting in ways he can’t control. He hates it, already feels shameful and defeated tears burn behind his eyelids. However, no matter how strongly he internally fights for it, he can’t find it in him to protest the fingers raking up his body. He doesn’t dare to object but worst of all: he almost doesn’t want to.

The lips that come up to brush against his cheek, however light they may be, distantly have his body wishing for more. But more never comes. Just as suddenly as this had all started, it ends abruptly when Mr. Winchester pushes them apart forcefully. This finally leaves room for Castiel to breathe again but the feelings that wash over him immediately have him wishing he was choking instead. 

Whatever it was his body wanted to happen is somehow made more shameful by it _not_ happening, by clear-cut, distinct rejection currently staring him down. Castiel doesn’t know what hurts more; how Mr. Winchester instantly starts laughing at him in a sadistically amused and ominous kind of way or the disregard that follows after making it painfully clear this was nothing but a joke to the CEO, a game.

“Huh, you really thought you had a chance with me? How pathetic. You’re a nobody, Mr. Novak, unworthy. Now don’t you ever, _ever_ forget your place again. Understood?"

“Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : ...


	7. He laughed at my sins, in his arms I must stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: what he wrote - Laura Marling  
> "He laughed at my sins, in his arms I must stay."

He can’t- he can’t breathe. The room feels too small, the air feels too thick. The air _is_ too thick, it must be, for it’s not making its way into his lungs and Castiel can’t do anything but suffocate as what he’d fought so hard for to disappear is now staring him in the face without a single shred of remorse.

At the bottom are just two little words; ‘source: unknown’, but he knows exactly who’s behind it.

“You fucker!” He screams at the phone, then sobs, immediately crumbling into a shattered mess because the one pillar that’d kept him standing had mercilessly been destroyed with a single blow directly to its weakest point.

Like all intricately built structures, humans need a support beam to keep them up, a grounding element necessary for the most basic of survival, but that’s exactly what has been stripped away from Castiel in an act containing nothing more than cruel sadomasochism meant to reduce the victim to indistinguishable particles of pulverized breaths.

~

Castiel backs away as soon as the massive hound runs towards him at full speed with no intention of stopping. The beast barks and growls at him, occasionally shoves its incomparably strong muzzle into his abdomen which only sends him stumbling backwards even more. “Not afraid of dogs are you, Mr. Novak?” Dean watches from across the room but does nothing. If anything, the man looks amused, even more so when Cas stutters “no, no, just- allergic” in a slightly panicked voice.

“How allergic?” Having a ginormous white dog seemingly consisting only of teeth, muscle and a hunger for human flesh yapping at you does not make it easy to concentrate on any questions whatsoever so it takes Castiel a moment, only managing to gasp out a one-word response. “Very!”

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Winchester takes his sweet time to make his way over to the entrance hall once more, enjoying the sight of a terrified man in his house for just a while longer. “Alright, Teddy. Playtime’s over. Go in your room!” When Dean finally manages to drag the dog away, Cas can weakly inhale again even though his throat was already closing up a bit.

He doesn’t know what’s more ridiculous; that thing being named Teddy or it having its own private bedroom apparently. “Ain’t he just a peach? Named after Ted Bundy.” Castiel doesn’t really want to ask why, he just hopes the namesake didn’t stem from a similar body count but Dean just shrugs at the question, further playing off of Cas’s fear for the animal.

Having the allergies he does meant he’d spent a lifetime avoiding any prolonged contacts with dogs which in turn brought a certain ingrained fear along with it. Sure, he liked some of them, if they were nice and calm and small, but this was no doubt a trained guard dog, the only thing stopping it from actually hurting Cas was Dean standing there, ready to interfere if necessary.

“Dogo Argentino,” Mr. Winchester says proudly, as if that alone was an explanation, “ninety-five pounds of pure muscles.” Honestly, Castiel doesn’t care. He just knows that one: he’s terrified of the thing and two: he doesn’t ever want to be alone with it in a room.

Getting lunch with his ‘boss’ had sounded like the worst possible idea, and that was _before_ meeting Mr. Bloodthirsty Junior, but what choice did he have? He hadn’t been allowed to leave the CEO’s side at all during the past two weeks since this started and it was slowly beginning to take a toll on him both physically and mentally. It became exhausting, constantly having to watch what he said, how he acted, even how he stood or blinked in every attempt to minimalize retribution.

“Here.” But Cas stares at the glass of water just a tad too long for Dean’s liking. “Drink it, you idiot. You look like shit. If you need pills or whatever we’ll get them later but for now just drink the damn water.” Yes- indeed, he probably should if his sore throat is anything to go by. “Thank you.”

When he’s finally able to concentrate again after his stand-off with a literal Hell Hound, Castiel takes his time to really look at Mr. Winchester’s mansion for the first time. It’s exactly how he’d imagined it: immense, spotless, modern and dripping in wealth, not even appearing as if someone actually _lives_ in it aside from the packed fridge and plentifully stocked bar where the man is currently hanging out.

“What do you want to eat?” _Fuck_ , he hadn’t thought about this part, home-made plain sandwiches forgotten at the office. Apparently, stammering out an incomprehensible answer does not satisfy the world’s nastiest dick but hey, what’s new? “Jesus Christ, you can’t even talk properly. Is there anything you _can_ do, Mr. Novak, because I’m starting to wonder why I keep you around at all.”

Cas stays quiet after that, he knows he’s constantly walking on thin ice and that the moment he manages to mess up whatever fucked up agreement they’ve got going, the CEO will not hesitate to terminate it, throw him out to the wolves. And Castiel will already be reeking of blood in that case.

“If you can’t make decisions like a big boy, you better eat whatever the fuck I give you.” The food in Mr. Winchester’s house is probably all caviar compared to Cas’s microwave dinners anyway but when he goes to sit down at the Ebony dining table, there’s a punch waiting for him. Literally.

Dean’s fist against the side of his face hits so hard and so unexpectedly he stumbles right down, heart racing as he looks up at the man who does nothing but grimace at him. “On the floor, that’s your place.” And without further ado, a plate of meat and vegetables is placed in front of him. “Eat.”

Before his brains can catch up to him, Castiel starts yelling his defence. It’s not the punch that hurt most but the negligence behind such a request and he’s not having it. The entire contract, the deal, all of it, was a way for him to avoid being taken to court but it was meant to be him just acting as a P.A. or something, not to be treated like a worthless piece of nothing.

“I’m a fucking human being, you know?! You can’t do this!” He’s fuming as he defends his own life though right as he’s about to get off the floor, Mr. Winchester pushes his chair back and gets up without a word, walking away from the trembling man. Castiel instantly figures out what’s to follow.

“No, no! Please don’t!” With just the twist of a key, Teddy is out of his room, running straight towards the plate of food in front of Cas. With him still sitting down, he and the dog are the same height which makes the second encounter all the more terrifying. He wants to scramble away but it’s too late, his movement involuntarily disturbs the eating animal and it snaps. It’s just a warning bite, a quick nip though still at full force with teeth sinking into his jaw and cheek.

The blood dripping down on smooth wood holds his attention more than Mr. Winchester’s harsh commands, the instant throbbing sensation offering a distraction from his heart going a million miles a minute with all the adrenaline travelling through. “For fuck’s sake!” Dean screams angrily. Whether it’s at him or the dog, Castiel doesn’t know.

~

He can’t even see the screen through his tears anymore, doesn’t need to because when those articles first surfaced fifteen years ago, he read them all back to back and stared at the included pictures until he got tired of his own face. This one is nearly identical: it still features the same damn text and so called ‘facts’ but now has a tiny paragraph added to modernize the old scandal.

The whole thing had destroyed his family. Even now, as he stares at a picture where his father is in the frame as well, he can still see the shame on the old man’s face and it hurts just as much today as it did back then when the news of his admission to rehab was front-page worthy.

Reading words such as ‘addict’ and ‘drug abuse’ bring back a flood of memories he thought he’d stacked away somewhere deep, deep down with every intention of never having to remember them. Struggling with addiction was one thing but constantly having to hear how people apparently thought the worst thing about it was the impact on his father’s company brought along a feeling of shame and hurt so intense it instantly made his chest collapse being reminded of it.

For years to come he was _‘the addict’_ , the one who tore his family apart and the one who cost his father thousands in plummeting shares. Newspapers just couldn’t get enough off it when the news came out. Some saw it as an opportunity for a sob story to get them more views, others just dug their claws straight into Castiel or his family without remorse.

Oh, he’d tried _so hard_ to make it all go away and he succeeded, or so he thought.

The minute Mr. Winchester’s driver had dropped him off after a lone trip to the hospital, he’d opened his laptop to maybe find a way out of this contract but the first thing that had popped up on his feed was a news add from a small, amateur lifestyle blog Cas liked to follow in his free time.

‘LIVING WITH ADDICTION: DEAN WINCHESTER AND FIANCE CASTIEL NOVAK’

“Cassius Milton, huh? God, your parents must have really hated you.”

_They did._

“Hurting daddy’s feelings and his company’s name… that must have been a shitty time, right?”

_It was._

“Poor, little Cassius, addicted to smack and crack. Probably not something you wanted to be reminded off, if you’d managed to forget at all. But you know what they say: once an addict, always an addict.”

_Always_.

It goes quiet after that for a while, nothing but his sobbing and wrecked breaths to be heard. “Please!” he chokes out ineffectively, not sure what he’s begging for in the first place. Dean is probably getting off on it anyway, but he just can’t seem to stop, still desperate to believe he can plead for forgiveness, hope for it to go away.

But Mr. Winchester’s voice is cold when he speaks up again. “The guard I sent with you to the hospital called me to say you were talking to one of the nurses, you seemed hesitant. What did you tell her, Cassie?” Shit, he didn’t tell her anything! He wanted to, yearned to just scream for help but he knew he couldn’t. “Nothing, nothing, I swear! I only asked for different painkillers because the ones- the ones she gave me, they- they- fuck!”

“Calm down, jeez. I get it, you’re a drug addict.” Castiel wants the words to sting, his secret should have stayed hidden and the name calling should hurt, but strangely enough, Mr. Winchester’s words are somewhat comforting. The man believed him, reassured him, and it makes Cas’s hyperventilating settle just the tiniest bit in relief.

“Why’d you write it?” He eventually asks after a few minutes of silence between them, voice soft. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” The gentle words immediately wrap around him and console him in the strangest way. Castiel just feels so small and vulnerable as tears roll down the stitches in his cheek, he feels like a teenager again who wanted nothing more than some encouragement, a warm hug.

“You see, Cassie, I just felt like reminding you what would happen were you not under my care. With a past like that and the more recent mistakes you’ve made? It’d be hard to find a job again. But don’t worry, we all make mistakes and besides, I’ve got you now. _You need me. _”__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : ...


	8. You keep tearing me apart, please have mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Mercy - Shawn Mendes (acoustic version)  
> "You keep tearing me apart, would you please have mercy?"

Out of all the things he’s had to face before, why was this the hardest one yet? Why did he let a previously invaluable opponent knock him down after a round only lasting sixteen days? Perhaps it was because Mr. Winchester’s final punch thrown had been the one to say ‘Now stay down’?

Yet, every past instance he can recall, Castiel knows with an unmistakable clarity he always defied the odds and kept pushing past his breaking point. When the crowds would start murmuring, whispering he won’t make it as they stared down at his bloodied and quitting body Castiel would get up, wipe the crimson from his face and get ready to fight again.

Until one day that fight unexpectedly turned out to be a matter of life and death and he suddenly found himself screaming like never before. Only, his screams would never be heard.

On his milky skin, nothing but beads of sweat like dew drops clinging to dying flowers in a last attempt to make the surface look more alive than it really is. But onlookers had declared him dead already, even the paramedics were ready to call it. After all, there are only so many drugs one’s vessel can take before fragile strings and coiling ichor decide it’s time to lay down their arms.

When blue lips gasp for atomic number eight through the cold and the rigor, desperate to hang on to life purely because the soul within demands it, that’s what one would call determination. Unbeknownst to Castiel, the real battle came _after _opening his eyes to the world again but nevertheless, he did it. He not only survived his overdose, he also got clean. Now he asked himself _‘why?’ _____

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Why did it seem so much harder to push back against a beating heart than it had been to restart a dormant one?

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Castiel knew the answer. Coming to terms with it was a whole different kind of surrender though.

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~

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When he makes his way into the office that morning, he’s surprise to see Mr. Winchester already has a cup of coffee on the polished desk, suddenly making the one in Cas’s hands feel less than worthy to be there at all, as if it has no business interrupting the apparently better version of itself.

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“You’re late.”

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“But it’s-“

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Dean’s nasty gaze shuts him right up, arguments about it only being one minute past eight long forgotten under the sanguinary eyes laid upon his twitching body. Before he can even receive his first order of the day (if he won’t get completely ignored that is), an elegant lady clicks her way over to the CEO’s desk where she deposits what looks like a file, her movements unnecessarily slow and her chest so happens to be almost right in his face.

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“Thank you, sweetheart.” Dean all but purrs as his hand comes to rest on her back. It’s horrendous having to watch the strikingly inappropriate behaviour, especially since he’s pretty sure the woman hasn’t even noticed him standing there.

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It feels vaguely familiar and that’s when it hits him; the panting, the moaning, the kissing.

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The ‘we-totally-just-had-sex’ look. This was the woman Mr. Winchester had shamelessly pounded into, only to make her quiver against him as he tongued her right in front of Castiel. _If kisses could kill._ But Cas instantaneously also remembers how hard he’d gotten just watching that scene which, unknowingly to him, had put him directly into the vulnerable position Dean needed to further abase and mock him.

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There’s a fresh set of scorching tears ready to spill just thinking about how utterly stupid the man had made him feel and how his chest still ached every time he remembered yet another humiliating comment or insult Mr. Winchester had cursed him with over the past two weeks. _‘You really thought you had a chance with me? How pathetic. You’re a nobody, Mr. Novak, unworthy. Now don’t you ever, ever forget your place again. Understood?’_

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Castiel wipes his tears before the man behind them gets the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

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“What’s wrong with you?” The harsh words startle him more than he’d care to admit but the way he’s unable to answer the question must give him away. The woman now notices him for the first time since she’d walked in and just like the initial time they met, she’s exactly as embarrassed by the moves she made on Castiel’s ‘husband’. “Anyway,” Mr. Winchester continues, slightly agitated, “this here is my new assistant. She's just so… _good_. Aren’t you, baby?”

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_‘Yeah, good at sucking his cock.’_ Castiel thinks. No wonder all these employees were trying to get in his pants if it suddenly promoted them to personal assistant. But where did that leave him? The thought of not even being good enough anymore to fetch a fucking cup of coffee in the morning does it and before Cas can stop it, he’s crying into his trembling hands right in front of the couple.

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“Darling, would you mind giving us a minute? My buttercup over there had a rough day yesterday.” She audibly coos at that, falling right into Dean’s lies and leaving the office none the wiser on _why_ exactly Castiel just had a night filled with nothing but nightmares from his past all thanks to one strategic gash straight across his still healing heart.

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The door locking behind him has him desperate for air instantly.

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~

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So why exactly was Dean Winchester turning out to be an apparent undefeatable opponent? How come it’s possible years of addiction seemed more manageable to conquer than the past two weeks and fifty to come? The answer wasn’t a simple one, but therefor not less true.

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In his search for an explanation as to why he was falling apart at such a rapid rate, Castiel found many similarities between Mr. Winchester and the narcotics that once held his life captive:

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Both luring him in and then keeping him hooked with bittersweet promises that should have sounded too good to be true from the get-go but are so deeply coated with persuasion that they leave users craving a next high before the needle has even made its exit. He was intoxicated well before taking the first sip of a drink he didn’t even know was spiked. _‘But you know what they say: once an addict, always an addict.’_

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Mr. Winchester, just like any drug, is addictive for all the wrong reasons. It doesn’t matter how taken apart the victim might already be, because for every new push comes a new pull and just like that, their prey becomes more and more dependent on them in some messed up, Stockholm Syndrome kind of twisted love story fabricated solely on abuse.

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_Strange, how they call addicts ‘abusers’ while they’re the ones on the receiving end of the hit_.

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But the most important realization was also the one sending cold shivers up Castiel’s spine. One had already nearly taken his life, the other had threatened to on a handful of occasions. Conclusion? It didn’t matter if he was thinking about Mr. Winchester or about drugs, both were equally deadly and that left one question: would it be hard and merciless, one overdose of lethal lust? Or would it be slow and sweet like sex on a Saturday morning, lulled into temptation by nothing more than wet kisses promising paradise?

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However, the one, major difference Castiel clung to for dear life was not what either dominant party did to him while under their control, but rather what’s to happen _after_ the scene is over. Recovery is all about reassurance on how much more beautiful life will be as you stare at a thirty day milestone chip while bullshitting your way through some motivational speech, pretending you’re not still falling apart. Though, end of the line is a chance at getting clean, leaving it all behind. And that’s what matters here: the possibility of terminating the contract.

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Dean Winchester wasn’t the kind of man you could quit, definitely not the type of person whose contract you could end. At least not without providing your very own death sentence. Overcoming addiction, for Castiel, had been characterized by a new breath of life blown directly into his still smouldering lungs which he accepted so eagerly, so desperately that he ran without ever looking back. And that was a privilege.

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The path to successful rehab had always been the promise of a better life but what promise was there when he could get out of Dean’s grip? _If_ he could get out _._ Castiel had a vague idea. Not roses and comfort, but rather images of blood and gore, of torture, agony and fear, his body mauled by angry possessive hands before the unrecognizable parts get burned and scattered as if they were meaningless ashes from a burning cigarette hanging between disinterested lips.

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_‘Now tell me, Mr. Novak, who would come looking for you if you were to disappear?’_

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~

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He was on his knees before he even had the chance to catch his breath, still wiping tears from flushed cheeks as his jaw was forced open by probing fingers quickly followed by an already semi hard cock. Punishment was inevitable, that much he’d figured out after jeopardizing their entire scheme by getting so publicly upset, but Castiel would take a beating over having his mouth raped any day.

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It hurt. Not just the stretch of his lips as they were breached by the hardening dick, but also the stitches pulling at already torn skin, undoubtedly making a new wave of blood trickle down the very mouth sucking down the thrusts to the best of its abilities.

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Castiel had to fight back more tears when Dean dug a finger right into the wounds. Of course the man got off from his pain, the moans that followed seeing Cas cry and bleed and choke said enough, spurring Dean on who was now fully grinding his crotch into the beaten up mess, properly face fucking by rolling his hips over the comfy office chair.

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If he wasn’t blacking out, Castiel might actually be impressed. “Ngh, fuck!” Mr. Winchester groans as he yanks Castiel off his dick and lets the convulsing body drop to the floor, only caring about his pleasure, jerking his hand quickly before eventually coming with a final push of his hips. Dean is even so kind as to rub the still warm cum all over the face it got aimed at; through the wounds, over the panting lips, even up into the sore and used mouth. “Fucking slut.”

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All Cas wanted was to melt through the floor in pure shame, or perhaps disappear into thin air, anything to not face the man who just shot a hot load at his skin as if he was nothing more than a sex doll, but before he can even blink away the blackness, Castiel is being pulled back up by his shirt collar which elicits another set of gasps and suffocating huffs.

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“Why did you do that to me, huh?” Mr. Winchester spits. “You made me look bad. Is that what you want? For people to think I’m a bad husband? Is that what you want?!” He yells as he shakes Cas violently, then lets go again without a warning, ignoring the dull thud of bone against wood.

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“I’ve got a job for you,” comes the lowly growled addition a few seconds later, “I’ll contact you once I know more but right now I have no further use of you.” Castiel would be confused, he feels like he should have a million questions right now but all he feels is throbbing pain throughout his body, the black spots dancing in front of his eyes aren’t helping either.

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“That means ‘go’, Mr. Novak.” Cas makes it all the way up to his knees, ready to get his legs under him, before Dean kicks him straight in the ribs. “I said go, you filthy whore! You’re fucking useless.”

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Useless.

_Useless. ___

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : ...


	9. I'm running out of time, I need a miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Miracle by The Score
> 
> "I'm running out of time, I need a miracle."

The material feels nice between his fingers, so much so that he can’t seem to stop slowly running his thumb over where it’s clutched in his hands, though he doesn't manage to actually move beyond the stroking. He just stands there, frozen, intense eyes glued to his skin and he doesn’t even need to look up to see them, their ferocity providing all the uneasiness needed.

“Put it on.”

Castiel takes in a short but deep breath, almost like a small gasp, when hearing Mr. Winchester’s request. The words were so soft he almost found himself completely pliant and obedient yet something stops him from actually moving. Perhaps it was because how stiff his body had gotten after remaining still for so long, or maybe the eyes on him made him more uncomfortable and self-conscious than he’d initially thought. But most likely it was the fear of revealing what had remained hidden under cautious layers.

Pondering didn’t do him much good. On the contrary. While his mind was racing, screaming hazy sentences at him, to the outside world –to Mr. Winchester- he was just being quiet. It could easily be mistaken for defiance, or in this case: ungratefulness.

“You don’t like it? Is that it?” The change in the man’s tone didn’t go unnoticed. It had been creepily gentle before where now it was back to that signature coldness Castiel had gotten to know, and soon enough he found himself torn between wanting back the softness, no matter how out of character it had sounded, and actually feeling a sense of comfort when the harshness had returned.

He noticeably flinches when impatient hands snatch the shirt from his grasp before it’s shoved back against his chest, punching the air out of him on impact. “Put. It. On.” Lifting his chin in a false display of confidence, Castiel nods but stands his ground when Mr. Winchester doesn’t move to give him some space. At least, not at first, because just after a few seconds of a silent battle for unspoken dominance, the man takes a step away from the wall and scoffs in response.

“Hurry up! I don’t have all day.”

Looking away from him might not do Cas any good, he’s not a dumb pup, he knows not seeing Dean doesn’t mean the guy can’t see him in return but Hell, he’d take any pretend reassurance he can get right now, even if it simply means not having some one way eye-fucking going on as he gets undressed. Taking in another steadying breath of air, Castiel begins unbuttoning his shirt; quickly, as to not even remotely give off the wrong intentions hinting at it being sensual.

He hasn’t even shrugged the shirt off his shoulders completely when the comment he’d been waiting for gets barked at him. Even with him anticipating it, it still whips against his already beaten skin. “What the hell happened to you?” Mr. Winchester sneers, unmistakably asking about the dark bruises curling all around Cas’s side and up his ribs. Before he can answer, he gets cut off, the man demanding answers as to who caused the injuries.

This takes Castiel completely by surprise. Not in a single scenario he’d formulated in his head, not even in the over the top and possibly far-fetched ones, did he imagine Mr. Winchester asking _who_ the reason behind bright purple blossoms might be. But the seriousness in that question leaves him no choice.

“You.” Then, after swallowing down the lump in his throat: “you, sir” he repeats a little louder.

“The Hell I did! You got beaten up? Some guys saw your sissy ass and decided to make you cry for mommy? I asked you a question, Mr. Novak. How’d you get those bruises?”

 _‘Unbelievable. Does he really not remember or is he just playing with me? He must be kidding, right?’_ Castiel thinks as a confused, desperate frown forms above his eyes gone wide. “No, sir, you- last night-“ _When you forced me to suck your cock and then repeatedly kicked me in the ribs._

“Are you saying I did that?! You have some fucking nerve, Novak!” Based on how Mr. Winchester turns around in anger, shaking his head and breathing hard with all the rage, Castiel is more than convinced he’s going to get a fist right in the jaw, if not worse. But when Dean faces him again, the man appears awfully calm, almost as if he flipped a switch. “I didn’t do that.” He says.

“But, you-“

“I didn’t do that.” It’s a statement, almost pleading in nature and it makes Cas doubt himself if just for a moment. He kept asking himself why Mr. Winchester not only denied having caused the contusions but even straight up acted as if the previous night never happened, as if he truly didn’t remember the oral rape, the beating, the cum play.

As he unconsciously brings shaking fingers to where his cheek is even redder than it’d been before, stitches now being slightly infected due to the sticky liquids that had been smeared over the fresh wounds, Castiel finds his eyes suddenly awfully interested in the floor he collided with not even sixteen hours ago. He can still feel the ache in his hips and the stinging in his knees.

“ _So_ , Mr. Novak?”

“You, you-“

_‘as dying leaves began to fall,_

_I thought ‘’that’s what they do’’,_

_but when broken walls came crashing down,_

_my existence crumbled too’_

“-you didn’t. You didn’t do this.”

“No,” Mr. Winchester says in the softest voice Castiel has ever heard from the man, “I didn’t do this, sweetheart. Are you going to tell me what happened?”

It’s more of a question rather than it being an answer, but after a few seconds of doubting if it was possible his own memories of the night before were wrong, Cas whispers “I fell.”

“That’s right, darling. You fell. Nothing more, nothing less.”

There’s a drawn out silence between them after that, the room filled with nothing but a heavy, _heavy_ cloud of emotions and turmoil as they stare at one another for a few endless seconds.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Dean even shushes Castiel when the hands tugging the new shirt around a bruised body make it shrink back from the touch like a beaten dog. Not even the fingers gliding through his hair are able to ease his underlying fears though. No, his body is tense, acting on instinct even when his own mind kneels for betrayal. So while all he wants to do is to be held and to be taken care of, yearns to let it all go for just a few blissful moments, there’s something keeping him from moving forward. He just can’t seem to figure out _what_.

“Cassie?”

“Don’t-“ is his immediate, weak prayer. Cassie was a sweet and innocent child, before the drugs, before the hurt and the lies and the violence. It’s not who he is anymore. “Please.”

Castiel doesn’t realize he’s made a mistake, doesn’t have any reason to believe he did something wrong, until he sees it flicker across darkening eyes; threatening clouds of an impending, restless storm trekking fast. It gallops upon the greens, approaching just as quickly and thundering ahead of time to make sure he’s frightened before it even hits.

What use is there in praying to be granted mercy and to be spared of being called a name you thought had gotten buried along with all your dirty little secrets when the man you’re confessing to only pretends to be your saviour while blood still drips from his hands?

“Go get me a fucking drink. Now!”

~

Coming home should feel like a relief, he knows that, yet when he pushes the front door closed behind him all he can think of is how numb and worn out he is despite of the relatively okay sleep he’d gotten the night before. Denying it is pointless though because the sensations are far too familiar, having felt them in his early twenties for the last time doesn’t take away from him immediately recognizing them as the dull, dark pull of a swelling depression and no matter how much it should make alarms go off, Castiel is exceptionally tranquil. Ultimately, the indifference felt more like coming home than stepping into his own house had done.

That night, as he lay blinking away the darkness as much as he attempted wishing away images of soft green eyes amidst seas of violence, he finds himself falling into a dreamless slumber time and time again before ultimately rousing back to a state of semi-consciousness where nothing greets him but bloodied hands gripping empty promises.

“God dammit, what is wrong with me?!” 

Too riled up on frustrations brought forth by not being able to sleep, Castiel eventually climbs out of bed, mindlessly shuffling his way to the kitchen where he makes himself a plain cup of tea. Normally, he’d start his morning with coffee but not today, not anymore. He couldn’t. Every mention or even thought about the drink sent shivers all throughout his body and made anxiety grip at his throat in anticipation of being yelled at, scolded and insulted in any way possible regardless of whether he’d actually been late or messed up the order. Dean Winchester didn’t need a reason to bring him to the brink of tears.

It made Castiel seriously consider terminating the contract. How bad could getting tortured really be? Was having his dead body dumped in a ditch really _that_ sad?

The thoughts have him huff out a bitter chuckle, warm steam curling up against his cheeks when his soft breath hits the scalding cup of tea pressed against his lips. He gets lost in blowing cool air over the water, it being way too hot for consumption yet, when something loud startles him out of the blue.

The loud ringtone at three in the morning caught him so by surprise the mug slips from his hands and shatters on the ground between his bare feet, boiling hot water clinging to thin fabric clad over his chest and dripping all the way down his instantly agonizing skin below. “Fuck! Ah, f-fuck that hurts!”

He’s still panting as he picks up the phone, wiping tears from his eyes and pulling in his chest to avoid the soaking shirt sticking to his skin, it’s pure anguish.

“Y-yes?”

“Mr. Novak? This is Mr. Lafitte, I’m Mr. Winchester’s bodyguard.” Ah, yes, they’d met, a gun between them at the time. “He is expecting your presence. Be at the Four Season’s in twenty minutes.”

“But it’s-“

The line disconnects before he can even protest or ask questions. _Fuck_.

When he lifts up the expensive button up Mr. Winchester had provided him with, Castiel finds his hands –actually, his entire body- trembling violently as a throbbing pain grips all the way from his throat down to his groin. He should go to the hospital, or at least see an emergency doctor but that couldn’t be prioritized right now, not even the cuts in his feet from where he’d stepped in the broken shards seemed able of sufficiently catching his attention, adrenaline overpowering.

Instead, he does as he’s been told through gritted teeth, ignoring how red his torso appears even in the dim light of his bedroom. No matter how soft the quality silk might be, it still makes him gasp out in pain as it lightly settles over every inch of burning skin. From his collar bones to his nipples and ribs, the shirt clings to his frame without mercy.

Castiel blinks away the tears.

~

He doesn’t even have time to fully get out of his car before a set of rough hands from an unknown man drag him towards the hotel’s back entrance without a word of explanation. Cold eyes skimming the lot as if to make sure they weren’t being watched catch his attention and Castiel goes rigid.

What the fuck was happening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : ...


	10. Cold metal triggers on their fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Bloody city by Sam Tinnesz 
> 
> "Cold metal triggers on their fingertips."

Castiel doesn’t recognize any of the men gathered in what looks like an empty storage room. They don’t appear to be any of Mr. Winchester’s staff which, unfortunately, is _not_ a comforting realization. These people give off a downright dangerous vibe by doing nothing more than just standing there, most with their arms crossed over stoic chests.

One of them, the same man who’d dragged him out of his car before, pushes him down on one of three chairs in the dark space without speaking a single word to him, neither of them do, not even when he starts asking questions and demanding answers.

Seeing as none of the men around him seem open for some heart-to-heart talks or friendly chatter, Castiel has to settle on the next best thing to acquire at least some information about what’s going on. As he lets his attention wander around the room, he makes sure to not make direct eye contact with any of them, much like one would avoid doing with a wild animal because, he isn’t entirely convinced these people wouldn’t _actually_ eat him if he’d piss them off in one way or another.

There’s about a dozen of them as far as he’s aware, half of them clad in expensive suits accentuated by golden watches and extensive jewellery glistening in stray moonlight. The other half are attack dog looking killers, one for every menacing mobster so it seems.

It dawns on Castiel soon enough that these are powerful and dangerous men, and each one of them is protected by a personal body guard, guns visible in an unspoken display of threatening foreboding. “Where’s Mr. Winchester?” he grits out eventually.

If only Mr. Winchester would be there, he could protect Castiel from harm, or so Cas wishes to believe. He knows it’s messed up to think that but it’s all the comfort he can cling to as his body shivers from the cold and the pain still rippling through his chest. “He’s here” someone announces upon entering the room. When Castiel turns around to see, he recognizes Mr. Lafitte immediately and soon enough, Mr. Winchester follows behind.

“Gentlemen” he greets, “let’s get to it.” After having ushered Cas out of the chair, Dean sits down on it and motions to the two empty ones before him. The seats get taken by whoever gets there first, or maybe there’s an order to all of this, Castiel has no idea. He just knows this isn’t an ordinary business meeting. Beside the seemingly normal discussions about money and future plans, there’s also talk about ‘protection’ and ‘keeping the peace’.

Castiel swears he even hears some names sounding uncomfortably close to known crime rings though he finds himself more nervous than actually surprised. Not even a few weeks ago was he the one fighting these kinds of underground illegalities between big-name companies, he’d suspected Mr. Winchester was involved, but now the cold sweat running down his back kept him more alert than he’d ever been. After all, they’d met up in the middle of the night, in a secluded place and with each attendee (except himself of course) being armed.

He only manages to shift his attention back to the conversation when a British accent replaces the mix of American and Italian dialect. Mr. Winchester looks on edge, almost impatient as he addresses the man. “Then what do you want? I can’t give you the East Side with my factory there. Money? Is that it, cause that I can-“

“With all due respect, it’s not your money I’m after. You know, _sir_ ,” the Brit sighs angrily, “I lost ground with the D’s after your little stunt of pushing greens till you got what you aimed for. So no, blood money isn’t what’s going to keep me off your ass, I want a different kind of compensation.”

“Well, Mr. Ketch, your beef with the Dominicans ain’t my problem, just keep your business up in Five Points next time, huh? But-“

There’s a gun shoved in Dean’s face within seconds, a handful of weapons being raised and cocked immediately after. “But” Mr. Winchester repeats without so much as a flinch, trusting his bodyguard and perhaps his own agility to get him out of that meeting alive. “Since I’m such a generous hombre and I truly do want to keep the streets quiet for all of our collective benefits, I’ll let you name your price.” The offer gets accompanied by a steady hand pointing at the empty chair Mr. Ketch was sitting on before the anger had erupted.

It takes another few seconds of daggers being shot back and forth but the British man eventually sits back down, never taking his eyes off of Mr. Winchester when he growls out his response. “Alpha Seven, on the Banks.” Castiel has no idea what that ensues but there seems to be a moment of consideration. However, the response is clear and stiff. “No” Mr. Winchester decides and just like that, tension skyrockets again. This time, the two men stare each other down as if they’re daring the other to waver under the pressure of silent threats. Dean doesn’t budge.

“Name your price.” He simply states again. 

Mr. Ketch flicks his raging eyes up at the influential men around him with a short, irritated huff as if to say ‘ _who does he think he is?_ ’ and that’s when their eyes meet. Castiel wants nothing more than to look away from the animalistic brown ones sizing him up but the decision appears to be made.

“Him” The man grins, obviously for the sheer enjoyment of challenging Mr. Winchester after having been screwed out of a pact but, surely, they couldn’t… right?

“Deal.”

Castiel doesn’t know what hurts more: being traded off like some piece of property or just how little time Mr. Winchester needed to agree to do so. Before he can even process what just happened, the two men are shaking hands and he’s being dragged away by the Brit, his screams completely ignored.

~

“Don’t look so surprised,” groans Mr. Ketch, “you’re not here to act as a piece of decoration or something, you’re not _that_ cute so come here, and suck my cock.”

“No.”

It takes everything out of him to stand up to this man but he’s not a toy, he refuses to just be passed around and perform sexual acts against his will, no matter how close he is to passing out from sheer fear. He watches the reaction closely, feeling the slightest bit of relief when he spots something close to amusement rather than the uncontained violence he was expecting.

Perhaps it’s the British accent or maybe this person isn’t as bad as Mr. Winchester, the reply doesn't sound too precarious. “Are you going to play hard to get?” Oh, he’s not playing at all, this isn’t a game. “Look, mister, maybe I gave you the wrong impression but I’m not a whore!”

Intense eyes soften at that, their ferocity ebbing the tiniest bit. “Darling, I’m not concerned about what you are or what you call yourself. You cost me a lot of money tonight. You could be a horse for all I care, I’d still fuck you with the millions I gave away for that pussy of yours so, I won’t ask again; come here and suck my cock.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

But it’s not fine. Mr. Ketch marches his ass across the penthouse in a split second and punches Castiel so hard he has to drag a weak body up to its feet himself before being able to pull it to the nearest bedroom where he wastes no time in moving things along.

“You should be glad I don’t kill you here and now! Do you even know who I am?” he screams. “I don’t care!” Castiel yells back just as loud as he tries to scramble off the bed. “Well, then I guess it’s my job to make sure you never forget my name again.”

Not another second is lost on words when Cas gets pushed into the mattress face down and pinned under the weight of another man who’s currently riled up and fretful, rough hands yanking his pants down without a shred of compassion. It hurts beyond belief where his burned chest is pressed against the comforter, stealing away his breaths needed to get objections out in the first place, but that’s nothing compared to the excruciating pain of a cock entering him with nothing but a coated condom as lube.

“Fuck, yes.” Ketch breathes out as he pushes further and further. “No wonder that American prick kept you as a play thing.” What is it with these men and relishing in another person’s suffering? Castiel had questioned if it was just Mr. Winchester who carried such cruel urges but as he lay there, being pounded between sobs and cries, hard thrusts slamming into him without stopping, the last of his hope for the world to carry goodness leaks out of him like the liquids trickling down his thighs.

His entire body is throbbing and shaking by the time blood gets mixed with cum though Mr. Ketch can’t seem to care, he just forcefully grabs Cas’s shoulder and turns him around, ready to kick his fifteen minutes of pleasure out of the bed when he sees it.

Both the duvet and Castiel’s button up are not only wet but also stained with dark patches of red. “What in the hell did you do?” Ketch barks as he rips the shirt open. Underneath is a sight that makes him back away instantly. Castiel’s unattended burns have deteriorated to his chest being blistered and wounds now dripping fluids and blood onto his torso down the agitated, affected skin.

“Is this a joke? Did Mr. Winchester seriously give me some injured animal to take care off?” He wants to get angry at the words but Castiel finds himself too hazy to even keep his eyes open anymore and besides, it’s quite peaceful now that Mr. Ketch’s outbursts sound so far away. “Shit man, you could die. I don’t want some dead prostitute in-“ But Castiel’s lights go out.

~

Trying to focus on the shouting is hard, it all sounds indistinguishable and muted though the accents and voices behind them are quite familiar. They’re arguing, angry about something but Castiel couldn’t care less, all he knows is that he’s in unbearable pain and he just wants it to stop.

He gets brutally ripped from his slumber by a loud gunshot too close for his comfort and it snaps him as awake as his body manages to be. There’s a second one. This time, Cas can see a figure going down out of the corner of his eye and when he focuses his attention on the floor below him, he can finally make out Mr. Ketch’s unresponsive form, blood spreading rapidly.

It would make him feel relieved, _‘serves him right’_ he wants to think, if it wasn’t for the fact a man just got murdered right next to him and if he wasn’t still too out of it to even stand on his legs or see his surroundings without gushes of dizziness crashing down.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

 _Mr. Winchester?_ Fuck, is he happy to hear that voice. Simply knowing the man is there to take him back nearly makes him start sobbing with pure joy and relief but as soon as determined arms pick him up, Castiel can do nothing but scream and cry out when his body gets manhandled, heated chest pressed against another.

“Shh,” Dean shushes instantly and tries to soothe the man in his arms by pressing soft kisses to the sweaty dark hair while quickly making his way to the set of waiting cars. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay” he whispers over and over, and Cas believes him. “Let’s go, Benny. He's burning up.”

~

The next time Castiel wakes up, he’s in a hospital room. 

Mr. Winchester isn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : ...


	11. Is staying is better than goodbye?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Calm after the storm - The Common Linnets  
> "I just want to know if staying is better than goodbye."

It’s not as if Castiel has been in the hospital that many times but even he knows it’s awfully quiet for one. No matter how much he tries to listen to those familiar noises of nurses and patients blowing some life into the otherwise serious environment, he’s left with nothing but the sound of his own steady breathing filling a heavy void.

As he looks around, his mind automatically trying to piece two and two together, he’s glad to see he doesn’t seem restrained in any way nor is he sharing the space with any guards, mafia bosses or other patients for that matter. In a split moment of what he assumes is a painkiller infused daze, Castiel does wonder where Mr. Winchester is, if the man is even there.

Cas might be a well-educated man who possesses plenty of knowledge on legal matters but on medical expertise he does not. So after finally figuring out how to screw the main line loose from the I.V. in his hand, Cas is left scrambling when the now open circuit starts dripping meds all over the floor and bed before he even has a chance of finding how to stop it all.

He, unfortunately, is well aware of how every little movement brings forth a range of pain that still holds power over his body. It concentrates itself around his chest and abdomen, his feet, and… his privates. Memories of painful penetration and violent harassment make him stop dead in his tracks.

It doesn't matter how foggy his brain might be after roughly three weeks filled with manipulation and defeat, Castiel knows he didn’t deserve what happened from the moment he had gotten that damned phone call up until this waking moment which is raining down a kind of unpleasantry leaving him feeling wrong and dirty. But that’s not the only thing clinging to his skin.

Looking down and pulling up the plain white t-shirt someone must have dressed him in, he can take a look at the damage at last. His chest is neatly bandaged with what appears to be wound dressing underneath. All in all, Castiel hopes his decision of not immediately seeking medical attention and exposing the burns to less than ideal situations for over twenty-four hours didn’t cause too much or irreversible damage. Thinking about possible scarring is something he pushes aside as quickly as it bubbles up into his already unsettled mind.

Castiel’s heart is frantically beating away as he pushes the door of his room open but he’s strangely relieved to see it leads into a regular hospital hallway opposed to some dungeon or another hidden lair like he was half expecting after last night’s secrecy with gang involvement.

Happiness seems short lived however; on each side of the door is a guard, both of them turning their heads as soon as Cas steps forward, so, no chance of slipping out of there unnoticed he realizes. Though in all honesty, where would he run? What would he even say?

But when he wants to walk into the hallway, not even a full tentative step further and there’s already an arm blocking his path. No words are spoken but the gesture says enough. “Can I get through?” Castiel sighs. He tries again after not receiving an answer. “Look, I just want to- I want-“

Words fail him. Castiel is tired, _exhausted_ , he’s in pain and just completely emotionally drained so he can’t even voice what he wants, doesn’t exactly know what that is either. What he does know is that he doesn’t have the energy left to deal with this and he’s sure tears will fall if these stupid, hard-headed bodyguards keep denying him passage as if they’re his babysitters.

He’s in the middle of spewing some meaningless arguments at the completely unimpressed men when he sees a third person jogging towards him. It’s Mr. Winchester’s personal guard, Benny Lafitte. Oddly comforting, might he admit amidst the chaos in his brain.

“You-“ Castiel begins, destination unknown, but his journey gets cut short when a rush of light-headedness takes him by surprise. The newcomer remains calm and collected, though there’s a hint of caution and perhaps even worry when Mr. Lafitte asks how Cas is doing.

‘What a stupid question.’

Did he- did he just say that out loud? Castiel snaps his eyes up and the surprised look he’s met with tells him enough; he definitely just said that straight to this armed man’s face. Shutting up would be the right thing to do here, definitely if he wanted to refrain from obtaining further harm, or if he valued his life enough, but the gates are open and all of his pent-up anger just floods out of him.

“I got kidnapped, raped, and everything just fucking hurts!”

Hearing the words isn’t quite enough to make him realize he’s full on yelling now, no longer just thinking them in the battlefield he dared call a brain, yet he can’t seem to stop. Apparently whatever drugs they’ve put in his system not only take away some of the pain, they also completely erase his verbal filter along with it.

Not even the strange, shocked stares he gets make him go quiet. “Mr. Novak, pl-“

“No! Listen up, Vantage Point, I’m sick and tired of all this bullshit, of all this- this _abuse_!” Castiel spits. “Yeah, and Mr. Winchester with all his money and his ‘I will make you disappear if you don’t listen to me’ fuckery. Real scary. Why doesn’t he just kill me then, huh? Huh?!”

The faces around him are downright unrecognizable with how blurry his vision is becoming, his knuckles turning white where he’s gripping the doorframe as if it’s a lifeline. That damned doorframe. All it does is remind him of the fact they’re not even letting him go out of his room.

“Where is he, by the way?” Castiel lets out a little quieter this time. “He said- he- he said-“ _fuck_ “he said it was going to be alright but he’s not even here, is he? That fucking lying piece of shit!”

“Mr. Novak, please!” the bodyguard finally barks angrily, probably not wanting to listen to this temper tantrum for another second and he succeeds in making Cas shut up for a few seconds. “Mr. Winchester will be on his way. He was notified as soon as you woke up.”

“Huh,” Cas scoffs, “too busy fucking his secretary again? Just let me through! I want to get out of here! I want to get out!” That’s the final straw. Any attempt at keeping frustrated tears at bay crumbles as he feels them reach his lips and cool the burning skin along the way. If only his chest could stop burning, too.

He’s only vaguely aware of the fight he tries to put up after that. In his mind it’s all ferocious and equal but in reality he has no strength left despite of him putting everything he can into the pushes and shoves aimed at the three bodyguards who easily outmatch him. Eventually it’s one of the two guards Castiel hadn’t seen before who loses his patience first and yanks Cas back into the room towards the bed, tight grip on the white t-shirt not being released.

“Calm the fuck down!” the man yells before continuing in a still harsh voice, “You’re obviously doped up on some good shit but I don’t care! It’s not because you’re Mr. Winchester’s plaything that your entitled ass can order me around and jeopardize an entire organisation by causing a scene. Now shut your filthy mouth. The boss will be here soon enough.”

The dark chuckle flowing into the room makes both Castiel and the bodyguard freeze instantly. “Oh, the boss is already here” Dean all but growls. And just like that, shit went from harmless hysterics to instant dangerous debacle in the blink of an eye.

Before Cas can even get over the fact Mr. Winchester had actually shown up there’s more angry words with heated yelling filling his ears and making his head pound. “Plaything or not,” Castiel can hear Dean rumble, “he’s still mine to do with as I please! You’ve fucking disrespected my property!”

The gunshot rips through Castiel even though he isn’t the one the bullet gets lodged in. Images of lifeless eyes staring at him as blood sloshes around on the floor immediately make their way back into his mind along with every nasty detail a night of betrayal had brought forth for him and it makes him sink to the floor, shaking and crying.

“No! Don’t touch me! Stay away from me.”

“Mr. Novak, please try to calm down. Okay, sweetheart?”

Dean’s voice brings him closer to a state of full awareness but it’s not enough. He just shakes his head in fear. “No, just- oh, God.” But the freshly spilled blood of yet another murdered person crept into his vision and Cas’s already hurting chest clenches impossibly tighter as he presses his eyes shut. “I can’t! I can’t do this anymore” he sobs.

There’s a moment of calmness before Mr. Winchester continues, voice sweet. “Listen to me, sugar. This man, he hurt you didn’t he? He hurt you. I just made sure he’ll never lay another hand on you nor will he ever yell at you again. I did it for you, to protect you.”

When Dean goes as far as to gently wrap his hands around Castiel’s face, the broken body within their hold seems to cling to them as if it would fall apart were it not for the fingers pressed against flushed skin, promising sweet nothings.

“Because that’s what I do, isn’t it, sweetheart? I take care of you.”

Dean can’t stop the little triumphant grin the second he feels a hesitant nod shifting beneath his fingertips. Luckily for him, blue eyes are still hidden behind wet lashes so they aren’t there to witness it.

“Castiel?” he asks carefully but there’s no immediate answer. “Cassie?”

“Don’t- don’t call me that.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Hearing Dean Winchester apologize has got to be the strangest thing he’s ever heard, it even almost sounded genuine. It couldn’t be though. How could a man who just took two lives in the span of twenty-four hours be sorry about something as unimportant as using a nickname when asked not to?

“I’m not your property” Castiel breathes out softly after trying his hardest to look for purity in the man but finding not the pieces of goodness he was searching for, only his own broken pieces instead. “I’m not your property!” he repeats more courageously this time.

The lecture about a certain contract doesn’t come, neither do the threats on his life nor the probing fingers or itching fists. Instead, Mr. Winchester remains entirely quiet for a full minute while doing nothing but trying to control his breaths, Cas notices.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, huh? You should-“

“No! No, just stop! I don’t…”

“Then what do you want?!”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath, “what do you want?” Mr. Winchester asks again, gently.

“I want to go home.”

~

Five simple words.

But Castiel said enough.

His decision hadn’t been hidden in the words spoken, too fragile of a concept and too broken of a surrender to be laid barren. Rather, it had been enclosed in the words _not_ spoken. Exactly those that made it all the more unbearable.

‘Home’ wasn’t longing for his own house, it wasn’t a promise to be there in the morning.

‘Home’ was a request to be set free,

Forever.

So when Castiel saw the defeat in Mr. Winchester’s eyes, followed by a few small nods, he should have felt happy, relieved. But when the man had gotten up and walked out of the room without another word, Castiel felt utterly and truly lost as he watched the man who'd entranced him all this time go without looking back.

And, _fuck_ , did it hurt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : ...


	12. Is there anybody out there? I'm down on my knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> "Is there anybody out there? I'm down on my knees."

It sounds miles away when there’s someone ringing his doorbell. To Castiel, it might as well be with how sore his entire body is. Every shift against the covers hurts as it pulls on his aching muscles and torn skin so even thinking about walking all the way to the front of his house makes him tense up.

He waits for a few seconds, listening for any further disturbance that never comes. Whoever wanted to contact him apparently didn’t deem it important enough to ring a second time over it, and in that case; neither does Castiel.

It’s becoming painful, the ache spreading down into his bones where they’re pressed against the mattress, but he can’t find it in him to care. Besides, he gets up to pee once in a while and he takes that victory without questioning the sanity behind the twisted logic. He doesn’t even pay attention to how his stomach knots and protests against days without food.

“Did I wake you?” Gabriel asks, way too enthusiastically and way too close to the phone.

“No, no. What’s up?”

“Are you sure, Cassie? You sound groggy.”

Simply hearing that name makes him close his eyes on instinct as a heavy feeling settles in his distantly throbbing chest, he also mentally curses himself for apparently doing a piss poor job at hiding the entire shit storm that is his life.

“I’m okay, Gabe. Just a little sick.”

It wasn’t necessarily a lie, though it was a huge understatement. Castiel wasn’t just ‘sick’, he had been in a miserable state when he left that hospital without looking back but right now his condition was downright questionable.

“Alright, brother, gotcha. So how’s married life treating you?”

Of course he had to ask. “Good. Yeah, good” Castiel sighs as he runs badly shaking fingers over his tired eyes. “It’s, uh- it’s hard sometimes.”

“Well, duh! Being rich and famous doesn’t come without a price now, does it?”

“What? I’m not-“

“Oh, come on, Cassie! I’ve seen articles about you and your lover boy at least three times in the past week alone. Looks like you and Mister Christian Grey are having the times of your lives.”

“You know I don’t get your references, Gabriel. But what articles? What do they say?”

Castiel’s heart is erratic as he waits for an answer and it’s not the fever. His brother obviously complete ignores him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Fifty shades? Hello?! The whole kinky-”

“Gabriel!”

“What? Does he spank you, too? Put you over his knee when you’ve been naughty?”

The images of Dean’s hands on him are becoming too much.

“Do you call him daddy?”

“Gabriel, stop!” Castiel full on yells.

“Alright, alright. Jeez, didn’t know the sex was that bad.”

He can hear Gabriel’s soft chuckle, can almost see the wide smile in front of him and it instantly overwhelms him with a homesickness so strong he has to breathe through the new set of oncoming tears. No way was he going to spoil his brother’s innocence and happiness. Not again.

“So, why are you calling, Gabe?”

“I thought you liked my nonsense chatter and inappropriate innuendoes?”

There’s the tiniest of smiles forming. It’s sad and costs him endless amounts of energy but it’s still there. “I do,” Castiel confesses, “but I’m still sick and you still haven’t told me why you called in the first place.”

“Must there be a reason?”

“There’s always a reason.”

“Fine. I met someone-“

“And there it is.”

For the next ten minutes, Castiel has to listen to a story that goes on and on about this woman and her personality and of course, her boobs. Every time he manages to zone in again after nearly falling asleep with how exhausted he feels, there’s more talk about every aspect of the female anatomy in which he has absolutely zero interest. He’s gay for a reason. 

It all boils down to the same old shenanigans though: him being his brother’s wingman by tagging along, putting in some good words for Gabriel during the first few seconds and then being wholly forgotten for the rest of the evening as if he’s world’s most pathetic third wheel.

But he didn’t mind. Not until now, that is.

Seeing Gabe make an utter fool of himself while Cas sat at the bar drinking some overpriced liquor was enough entertainment for him anyway. It made him forget about any worries he might be having and seeing how happy his brother was after managing to take home a lady was easily the best reward.

That had been _then_. Before any of the cruel shit that went down between living a relatively mundane life and literally being a criminal’s throw-away accessory. A bruised and battered throw-away accessory. How was he supposed to go out in public like this? What if someone noticed?

“I’ll be there, Gabriel.”

“But we haven’t-“

“Send the details to me in a text” is all he has the breath for to say before hanging up.

He doesn’t know how long he falls asleep for after that draining conversation yet when he wakes up again, phone still resting in his hand, he feels oddly relaxed. Numb would be a better word perhaps but regardless of what he decides not to call it, Castiel manages to drag his shaking legs to the bathroom before finally succumbing to the gnawing emptiness in his stomach and shuffling down to the kitchen where he makes himself a simple sandwich. Coffee is out of the question, so is tea.

When he opens his front door to retrieve the ever growing pile of newspapers, letters and leaflets, he nearly stumbles over the cardboard box discarded on the steps. _I didn't order anything._

Staring at the damn thing isn’t going to reveal its contents and turning it over for the fifth time won’t magically reveal who sent it either so after a steadying breath, Castiel wipes the fever sweat off his forehead and carefully begins opening it.

‘ _Get well soon’_ the little business card inside reads, neatly printed right above the golden letters spelling out ‘ _Winchester International Co._ ’ Once Cas manages to meditate through rising heaps of nauseousness at seeing the formality and therefore lack of personal touches, his first thought goes to wondering how many of these pre-made cards Mr. Winchester has sent out over the years.

Knowledge tells him it probably isn’t even the man himself who arranges for them to be distributed between absent employees but someone in management gritting their teeth at the added annoyance it brings forth.

He feels dizzier with every new item he pulls out of the packaging papers. There’s three boxes of different pills ranging from generic painkillers to some sort of antibiotics, then there are sterile wound sets, bandages, even silicone sheets for his burns, two types of ointments and a whole array of what seems to be physiological water. Lastly, right at the bottom and carefully tucked away: a heavy stack of hundred dollar bills.

~

Castiel runs.

He runs and runs until his lungs threaten to give out. He runs until his fever soaked body shivers in the wind, until his muscles burn in overpowering acidity, until his heart nearly quits, his legs almost fail and his world comes close to crashing. But he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop till he can feel the wood beneath his knuckles as he knocks down on it.

“I’m not interested in your-“

Gabriel promptly falls silent, doing nothing but stare at his brother in shock.

“Cassie,” he manages to gasps out at last, “Cas- oh my God, what happened to you?”

If only he could explain but for now he’ll have to settle on lying through his rattling teeth as to why he showed up there, drenched in sweat, out of breath and probably looking two minutes away from death. If he isn’t already. Gabriel pulls him inside quickly.

“Dog. Dog bit me.”

The worried eyes on him grow even more intense at hearing his weak whispers. “A dog bit you? Cassie, you shouldn’t even be around dogs! Your allergies-“

Castiel waves the probing fingers away from his face and shakes his head when asked if it was Mr. Winchester’s pet who did that. “No, just some dog” he lies, no breaths left for further explanations.

All in all it takes a good fifteen minutes before Gabriel finally backs down a bit. He’d turned into a mother hen as soon as he opened the door and dragged Cas over to the couch, and honestly, it was quite endearing but even mamas smother their kids sometimes. He was living proof of that.

“I’m just sick, Gabe. Pro’ly the flu or some’ing.”

Luckily for Cas, his brother is too busy taking care of him to even notice the dubious circumstances surrounding him and how badly the infection actually gripping him is. Gabriel even lets it slide when Castiel is unable to answer simple questions like why he ran all the way instead of taking the car. Again, he doesn’t know anymore.

“Hey, hey, hey, stay with me Cassie. There you go.”

He blinks up at Gabriel, unable to focus.

“You were far away, huh? How long have you been sick for?”

Castiel just shrugs. What was the question again?

“Cassie? What’s going on with you?”

Breathing is _hard_.

“That’s it,

We’re going to the hospital.”

~

He’s okay. Everything’s okay.

He can feel his arms and he can move his toes, he can even feel the bandages pulling at his chest and for once, the slight burn of his skin is more than welcome for it grounds him in the here and now, dragging him closer to consciousness through sickly sweet agony.

“Hey there, princess.”

That voice has never sounded better to him.

“Hey, Gabe.”

“Just get some rest, okay? You’ve got a pretty nasty infection going and you owe me an explanation about those weird burns on your chest but that can wait. Sleep, Cassie.”

Where he wants to panic about having to explain any of this, Castiel can’t find it in him to do anything but nod at his brother’s words as he drifts once more.

When he wakes up again, he gladly notices he can at least keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds at a time now, enough to confirm that they are indeed in a hospital. Didn’t he specifically ask Gabriel _not_ to take him to one, though? Albeit, they do appear to be alone in the room and even the sinister, sterile environment feels welcomingly comforting despite it all so he relaxes into the bed a bit further, staring at Gabriel’s gentle smile.

It makes him remember those long days in the second half of rehab; doing well enough to have semi-normal conversations with his brother but not quite enough of sobriety yet to be out of the centre, floating in that weird space always seeming to follow a particularly bad relapse.

“You okay, Cas?”

“I feel like crap” he huffs out between a light hearted eye roll.

“Yeah,” Gabriel chuckles, “scared the hell out of me! Don’t ever do that again.”

“What happened?”

“You were acting all weird. For a second I thought you- you were using again and-“

“Gabe, no! I wouldn’t-“

“I know, I know. That was silly of me.”

Castiel looks away in shame.

“Anyway,” Gabriel continues as he stands up from his chair, “you passed out. So, I brought you here, some hot nurses got their hands all over you and the rest is history.”

The jokes and soft laughter do a good job at hiding the worry, they even almost masqueraded the pain in a confession though while it’s hurtful, it’s also a reassurance that Gabe is still Gabe and that the world still moves along.

“I’m gonna get some snacks. Want any?”

But before he can deny, his heart completely stops at what he sees through the now open door.

Armed guards.

One on each side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : ...


	13. Make it hard to leave you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> "Make it hard to leave you"

Of course when Gabriel comes back into the room, unceremoniously dropping candy bars after stuffing his hands with more than he can carry, he’s as chipper as ever and doesn’t seem aware of the danger they’re in, making it all the more urgent.

“You know,” he begins, mouth already full with some chocolate, “it’s real cool that you’ve got your own bodyguards and stuff but if they’re gonna make us feel like some famous actors I’d at least expect the real star to be here, no offense-“

“The _real_ star?”

Gabriel throws in a fake shocked face after hearing his brother’s confusion, acting as if him rambling on about fame and fortune actually makes sense. “Your fiancé, duh! His entire squad is here but I have yet to see him. Will he forever be a mystery? I don’t want the first time meeting him to be at your wedding and-“

“Gabe, will you shut up?!”

Miraculously, he does, even seeming a bit shocked at himself for talking so much, judging by the way he snaps his mouth closed and finally acknowledges Castiel again. Castiel who, unbeknownst to Gabriel, has been sinking further and further into despair for the past ten minutes and who is having a _really_ hard time keeping it together right now.

“Are you alright, Cassie?”

“Yeah, no, I’m sorry, Gabe. It’s all really overwhelming, you know?.

He has to take a minute to actually process what Gabriel had been throwing at his head just a few seconds ago before carefully constructing answers that will sound composed enough to not give himself away. Easier said than done when you don’t even _know_ the answers.

“Back to the beginning. You said his entire “squad” is here?”

“Yes,” Gabriel sighs as he rolls his eyes at his brother’s air quotes, “is that not what you call it? Anyhow, there’s like a handful of guys out there. You know, real Men in Black types: suit, gun, earpiece, the whole nine! But I thought you knew that? Or is that not normal f-“

“No, no!” Castiel nearly gasps, “it’s normal! I just- sometimes there’s guards, sometimes there’s not. You know how it is.”

 _‘Smooth, Castiel, real smooth_.’ But besides a frown at the jumpy response, Gabriel doesn’t pay it much attention and is back to his snarky remarks in no time, making it painfully clear that no, he actually _doesn’t_ know how it is because he isn’t the one being rich and famous and surrounded by bodyguards.

“So he’s not here?”

“Your hot stuff? Nah. Where is he anyway?”

“Oh, uh, busy, with the- the factory. Opening’s next week so…”

“Yeah, I read something about that. Also heard some people were against it. You know, those real hippies with their avocado bagels and vegan voodoo stuff. Though, I’ve gotta hand it to them, that factory is probably going to pollute the air even more and then of course there’s the-“

But Castiel clocks out somewhere in the middle of Gabriel’s rally about climate and how scandalous it is that big name brands get away with their dirt on the streets. Once upon a time this topic would have interested Cas and he would have jumped on the occasion to politely debate about it with someone, though right now he’s got bigger problems on his mind.

One being Mr. Winchester’s men posted outside of the room. Castiel was still desperately trying to find out what in the hell this man was playing at. Didn’t they kind of, sort of, end their arrangement? Or at least agreed to some time apart? It hadn’t even been two full days, yet Dean had managed to creep back into his life, just like that.

If only Gabriel would finally stop talking, perhaps Cas could begin working on a plan of getting the fuck out of there before this situation could pull him to the depths of no return. That was if the guards would allow him to leave in the first place.

“-when you were one of those tree huggers, too? Cas? Hello?!”

“Y-yeah? Yes, yes, I guess.”

“Didn’t you almost get arrested at one of those things?”

“What th-“

“The rallies, Cas! Those climate marches you used to attend?”

“Oh… yes, no. I mean yes, I _did_ get arrested that one time.”

“No wonder I turned out like this with such a wild big brother setting the example.”

It’s a joke. Nothing more than a joke, Castiel knows that but it still stings and he’s unable to fully hide it, a hurt expression settling over already battered features as he once again turns his attention away from Gabriel.

“Aw, shit. I didn’t mean it that way, Cas, I-“

“No, no, don’t worry about it! I’m sorry, Gabe, just really tired.”

“Yeah, I understand.” His brother says softly. “Get some rest and call me when you get out of this place, okay? I’ll come pick you up. I know I’m not a hot nurse or something but I can take care of you all the same.”

“Thanks, Gabe. I appreciate it.”

When Gabriel leaves, the guards are still there.

~

“I said, the music’s really loud!”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah. Wanna go someplace quiet?”

“Sure. Let’s go!”

Before Cas is even fully seated on the couch, body still swaying from the amount of alcohol rushing through it, there’s a pair of hands settling on his hips and a tongue pushing into his mouth. “Woah!” He shouts, pushing the guy away from him, “I’m not a faggot.”

The hurt expression illuminated by dim lights is almost enough for him to apologize to the poor dude. Kid’s cute, Cas will give him that, but no way was he going to openly kiss men now, he was enough of a disappointment to his father as it was. “Fuck, sorry, Cassius, I- I uh-“

“Don’t sweat it. Just on edge” Cas manages to slur the half apology before completely sinking against the back of the couch. “Party sucks, huh?”

“Yeah,” the guy sighs, an awkward smile between them, “at least there’s free booze.”

“Fuck, yes. But it’s not enough to filter out my father’s bullshit. God, I can’t stand seeing him act so fake just to haul in more deals and snatch another offer. Guy’s like a vulture” he chuckles. “I swear, the minute I turn eighteen I’m getting as far away from all of this as I can.”

Cas winks at the boy next to him when he catches the stares, secretly liking how this person looks at him as if he’s the most delicious thing in the world, it makes him feel wanted and _fuck,_ if only… “Come here” he whispers and just like an obedient little thing, the boy gets into his lap, their sweaty bodies pushed together where not even the music can reach, let alone hands.

“Alright- just- move back a bit, sweetheart, so I at least can get our cocks out. What’s your name again?”

“Darius.”

“And I thought ‘Cassius’ was bad.”

“Shut up” the kid says right before sealing it with a clumsy but hot kiss while wrapping his hand around Cas’s dick, not letting go until cum is running down between their legs. They continue making out, still panting into each other’s mouth as Cas lets his hands roam.

No matter how foreign it might feel, to have strong muscles push back against his every move instead of gentler curves and small tits kneaded between his impatient, horny grasp, this feels right. It feels like it’s always meant to be. “Fuck, you’re hot, Cassius” whispers Darius as his fingers glide through the damp hear beneath him and his blue eyes find the matching ones in the dark.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Castiel could have made a million different choices that night. From dumping the boy’s ass right on that couch and never looking back, to going for a much needed meal in an attempt to sober up a bit. He even could’ve just taken Darius home, fucked him raw and then called it a night.

But the night had merely started for him, alcohol buzzing only spurring him on in the pursuit of _more_. It was always more; more drugs, more often, more risks, and ultimately, more close calls.

“Alright, w’ever!”

Cas can barely hear a thing over the club’s obnoxiously loud music. It’s perfect. Though he does wonder why the guy he face fucked in the bathroom only minutes ago (Darrick? Darion? _Darius_!) has blood trickling out of his nose and seemed so pissed off before saying his goodbyes.

In all honesty, he couldn’t care less, couldn’t even care if he tried because the mix of alcohol and drugs is really starting to take a toll on his general functioning and he’s pretty sure the way he’s barely still standing is not because of his skinny, teenage body figuring itself out.

Fuck, he’s way too messed up.

“Hey, man. Want to buy some?”

Cas stares at the woman’s hands, then at his own trembling ones, then back at hers. “God, yes.”

He doesn’t remember being led into yet another different room, each door they pass making the music fade and the world quieter until there’s nothing but the sound of ragged breaths against his heaving chest. There’s fingers dipping themselves into his underwear and grabbing his flaccid cock, barely proving themselves enough to keep him grounded but in the end, he manages to push them away. “Fuck off” he hisses, “I’m- I’m too-“

 _Too drunk, too high, too far gone_. So Cas does the only logical thing; he sits down on the floor (read: falls), gets comfortable with his back against the wall and snorts line after line, his brain no longer clear enough to tell him to stop, the drugs tearing him apart one gram at a time.

“Cas? Cas?!”

This isn’t even being sick anymore. This is dying, and that’s not an exaggeration. His body is failing, literally quitting on him, Cas knows that but the one thing more frightening than becoming aware of the fact you’re on the brink of death, is knowing and not being able to do anything about it.

He’s suffocating, the world spinning and burning him alive, pulling, twisting, ripping at every inch of his existence as the chemicals inside of him are causing irreversible damage, no chance of stopping. The thin, clear vomit making itself out in a last attempt at saving him does nothing but run down his chin and leave his body shaking uncontrollably where it spirals into violent spasms.

 _The famous final scene_.

“Cas, please! Fucking wake up!”

No amount of slaps against his rapidly draining cheeks is going to lull him out of this. He’s feeling too cold anyway, limbs frozen in place. Perhaps the blazing heat gripping around his neck earlier wasn’t so bad after all? It at least was a hell of a lot better than the chills mixed in with tremors currently demanding all of the scarce breaths still left in him.

_‘You’re going to die.’_

_‘I know.’_

_‘Do something!’_

_‘I can’t._ ’

He truly can’t. His body just stops.

And that’s the day Cassius Milton died.

~

“Castiel!” Mr. Winchester screams for the sixth time, finally snapping Cas awake. “Fucking hell!” the angry tone immediately followed by a hard smack right against his already throbbing face. “I thought you were freaking dying or something! You son of a bitch.”

He can only stare up at the furious green eyes in disbelief as his heart breaks impossibly further. All he wanted was to be held, to have someone hug him tightly while they whispered it was going to be alright, that it was just a nightmare.

But instead he’s greeted by someone who hates him more than his father did, something Castiel didn’t even think was possible, not until he met Mr. Winchester.

“Get washed and dressed,” the man barks, “we’re going home.”

_No, no, no! He was supposed to escape. He was going to leave! He was going to-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : …


	14. The air is cold, the night is long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> "The air is cold, the night is long."

His hands stop just short of Castiel’s cheek, almost as if they’re demanding permission for once.

“He got you good, didn’t he?” Dean asks with a soft tone to his wreck of a voice.

It’s kind of hard to focus when Teddy is still right there, moving between him and its owner, so Castiel misses the window for an answer and is left trembling and alone when Dean finally moves away from him, the dog doing so as well.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“I-“

“Paula can make you something. I mean, she’s not here right now but I could call her.”

“N-no, I-“

“Fuck, I never even asked. What do you like?”

“Nothing!”

“Nothing? Come on, Novak, you’ve gotta like _something_. I could have Paula make smoked salmon, we’ve got sirloin steaks, oh, she makes a mean truffle risotto or-“

“Sir!” Castiel gasps amidst Dean’s rambling, getting the man to take a breather for the first time in what seems like minutes, “sir, please. That’s all very… generous and kind of you but I’m not hungry.”

Food is about the last thing on his mind right now, to be honest. In the post-apocalyptic chaos currently waging in his body, culinary excellence unfortunately is not the lifeline he’s holding out for. No matter how much those dishes are making his mouth water; they’re just too far from reality.

Besides, he feels very fucking close to passing out. It’s not rocket science that Mr. Winchester pulled him out of the hospital wat too soon but Castiel still hasn’t figured out what exactly drove the man to do so, let alone why he showed up in the first place. Whatever game that man was playing, Castiel was losing.

“Are you feeling alright? You look like shit.”

As much as the words cut through the already tense air and make his gut feel even heavier than before, they’re also a whirlwind of confusing concern stemming from a man who previously appeared incapable of such.

“I, uh- I don’t feel too well, Mr. Winchester.”

The pathetic excuse of a response doesn’t even come close to what he so desperately wanted to say but it will have to do. Explaining how he can feel the fever consuming him, how dull yet intense pain continues to spread through his exhausted body, how nauseousness threatens to take over… Even how frightened and emotionally hurt he feels are seeking an escape, despite who his opponent is right now.

But before Mr. Winchester can even brew up another snarky remark, Castiel’s stomach decides it’s all been too overwhelming and caves as it spills its meagre contents of nothing but bile and water over the expensive Italian marble, unforgivingly so.

He watches in horror, his mind racing and telling him to scramble, to run off, find cleaning supplies, _anything_. Unfortunately, his legs have other plans. They’re almost incapable of keeping him upright at this point with the negligence slowly but steadily taking over, let alone carry him anywhere.

“I’m so, so sorry! Pl-“

“Don’t!” Dean snaps. It’s already too late when Castiel realizes it was directed at Teddy running up to the small puddle and not at him, but what difference does it make? He’s scared out of his mind for the punishment sure to come. A nearly one hundred pound dog having another go at pushing him into the corner isn’t exactly helping and Cas just loses it.

It’s too much! He’s in pain, he’s sick and he’s afraid and why won’t it stop?!

 _‘Run!_ ’ his mind yells at him. He can’t.

Unable of overpowering a wave of trembling, he sinks to the floor, Teddy now barking right in his face and deafening him while doing it. The animal might simply be as confused as Castiel is, but what does Cas know? He hasn’t the slightest idea about how dogs work so to him it’s a clear threat.

“Stop!” he screams, slightly muffled by the arms desperately trying to protect his face and avoiding getting bit again. It only quiets down when Mr. Winchester manages to drag the dog away and towards its room by the heavy leather collar decorating trained muscle and agitated skin.

“Sweetheart-“

“Please!” Castiel sobs.

“Oh, honey. I know.”

Why is he being so gentle tonight? All it does is freak Castiel out more. Castiel who’s now full on crying and gasping for breaths, not able to string together any coherent thoughts whatsoever. He just knows he wants ‘it’ to stop, whatever ‘it’ is.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, sweetheart, no. You don’t have anything to be sorry about, okay?”

There’s a drawn out moment of silence between them after that as if both men are unsure of what the right path of action is here. Eventually Mr. Winchester takes a leap and places his hand on Castiel’s arm, too firm to be perceived as loving yet too careful to be considered a warning so after one slow exhale, they let some tension go.

The calm before the storm.

“Talk to me.” Mr. Winchester says breaking the silence, then adding a growled ‘now’ accompanied by a painful squeeze to emphasise it wasn’t a request. After that, his thumb immediately falls back into the steady rhythm of brushing up and down along Cas’ sweater where it sticks to the clammy skin beneath.

“I don’t- I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Well how about you start explaining why you were stupid enough to hide such an injury from me in the first place? If you'd have-“

“As if you care! You wouldn’t-“

“Shut up!” Dean yells, this time yanking Castiel’s arm like one would do with a disobedient child. “I wasn’t done talking. I never would have traded you off to Mr. Ketch if I’d known you were sick.”

He stands up after that and leaves Castiel on the ground, looking down at him.

“Why?”

“Why what?!”

Mr. Winchester’s lack of understanding the issue of what has been said is pissing Castiel off even more. He’s still petrified of Dean, sure, but he’s also beyond being patient so maybe it’s the fever talking and clouding his judgement when he pushes the sweaty locks away from his forehead and fixes dark eyes on their target, snapping:

“Why would you not have ‘traded me off’ to that Brit if I had told you about the stupid burns? What possible reason could you give me that wouldn’t make you sound like the complete lunatic you are?!”

Something flashes across Mr. Winchester’s face, Castiel notices, a split moment of hurt but it’s enough to prove there’s at least _some_ humanity hidden within the monster pretending to come baring gifts. Whether it’s a blessing or a curse is yet to be uncovered. It’s just that bit easier to unleash raw rage upon someone who seems unaffected by your words, someone incapable of empathy.

“Ketch made it clear enough.” Cas pushes through, “He got a bad deal out of your negotiation and you know it! Me being pretty much useless after one round of fucking, that’s bad for business. After all, I was nothing more than a piece of meat you could use for your own profit. Do you realize how fucked up that is?!”

Mr. Winchester choses to completely ignore Castiel’s question, even the insults are left behind as he decides to vex his outburst on the seemingly only shock-factor of a hopeless confession and barks back at Castiel, though, not nearly as loud as a few teeth marks ago.

“Ketch should have known better! He hurt you and he-“

“Since when do you fucking care?!”

“I told you to shut your mouth, Novak!”

Even Teddy starts barking from his room, undoubtedly riled up and perhaps concerned by hearing his owner going at it. Castiel just becomes increasingly convinced that were they not in some mansion far away from the next house over, a weary neighbour definitely would’ve called the cops on them and all of this would be over.

Unfortunately, their stand-off with a fatal ending not being entirely unthinkable has just begun.

“He hurt you,” Mr. Winchester resumes, “so I put a bullet in him! I killed someone for you but-“

“No! Stop! Do you even fucking hear yourself? You murdered someone in cold blood without giving it a second thought. You probably went home after that, wiped off the blood with your fricking velvet towels or something and then got under your satin sheets as if nothing happened! You’re nothing more than a killer! How in the hell are you better than Ketch or any of those men you make deals with, huh?!”

Castiel is boiling with anger. It has him panting through struggling breaths, sweat dripping down his neck, leaving cold tracks in their wake but he doesn’t care. The surfacing weakness in green eyes does nothing to calm him down when they avert themselves for only a short moment of rethinking before snapping back into their respectful place: looking down on him.

Mr. Winchester’s breathing is equally as hard as his, maybe even quicker judging by the full ten inhales it takes to make them stutter on this high-speed pursuit before slowing down. “Go take a shower. The guest bathroom is up the stairs, second door on your left. I’ll have my doctor check on you first thing in the morning but right now you need to rest.”

What the hell just happened? Did they really go from screaming their lungs out about murder to Dean acting like some sort of concerned husband in a perfectly domestic scenario? “Mr. Winchester-“ Castiel blurts out not knowing where to go from there.

Hearing dress shoes click on designer marble is something he’ll never get used to. At least it means someone is coming back for him instead of leaving him to his own demises when he can’t possibly scrape together enough willpower to even get off of said floors. “Was I not clear?”

The threat immediately makes him regret his choice of calling for the man. He’d rather starve to death than dive head first into another round of screams with world’s number one most unpredictable and dangerous time bomb. He’s not suicidal.

“No- I mean, yes, you were clear, it’s just-“

“What? Spit it out!”

You know what? Maybe getting eaten alive by Teddy isn’t the worst option here. “A little help? Please?”

~

He’d panicked initially, tried to cover up his body like a fool but what good would that do him? There isn’t any level of vulnerability more intense than standing completely naked in someone else’s shower while the host himself waltzes in as if he, well, owns the place.

“How are you feeling?”

Really? Castiel just stares at Dean from under the water, hands still covering his crotch. 

“Oh, come on. You’re not getting all shy on me now are you, darling? I just wanted to check in on you. Seems like I made the right call.”

“Just- just do it.” Cas exhales softly, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall a bit more when he feels how the new rush of anxiety makes already shaking legs edging closer to total failure. This isn’t a battle he can win.

“What are you talking about?” It almost sounds accusatory but he knows even with this fever fogging up his brain that if Mr. Winchester is denying anything it’s out of pure self-preservation, a last ditch effort to maintain some false dignity.

So Castiel steps off the ledge. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” he asks, already knowing the answer, “to fuck me? Just do it already! I won’t fight.”

“You sure have a filthy mouth” a now naked Dean breathes against Castiel’s wet back while he lets his dominant hands claim every inch of searing hot skin in their path without stopping to see the damage already done. “I’d love to fuck it again.” Tonight however, he takes satisfaction in sliding his rock hard cock between trembling thighs until cum dribbles between them.

“Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : ...


	15. Somewhere just beyond my reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Holding out for a hero - Nothing But Thieves  
> "Somewhere just beyond my reach"

When screams tear through broken minds in the night, the world around remains quiet and serene, dormant in its guard with only the safety of a promise lulling anchored bodies within their defenceless hibernation, no tangible weapons protecting frail skin under the moonlight.

But when distant rays of sun ease that very skin back to the warmth of a world in movement, the scales tip towards a grander scheme. Our vessels might be awakened, though their battles within are now kept silenced through social expectations of collected smiles and play-pretend at full.

So as Castiel pushes the sweat soaked sheets away from his aching muscles to face yet another unpredictable day, he equally puts aside what images had been haunting him the hours before because men like Mr. Winchester take what they can get and if the breakfast buffet is composed of vulnerability still hot from where it had been brooding, who knows how much closer that would bring one’s time of death?

~

It’s quiet in the house. Almost _too_ quiet but Castiel can clearly hear commotion as he makes his way down the cold marbled stairs, instantly sending another bout of anxiety through his already suffering body at the possibility of having to face actual humans today.

The voice however is not Mr. Winchester’s, rather a woman’s with a distinct accent whisper yelling profanities in Spanish followed by quick footsteps darting around the kitchen in pursuit of something.

 _‘Mierda!’_ he hears the woman exclaim and right when he’s about to step down into the living area, Cas can finally see where all the hassle was stemming from: Teddy runs past him at full speed, his nails ticking against the stone floors and tongue hanging out, panting hard from what Cas presumes has been a game of outrunning a staff member for God knows how long.

“ _!Teddy, ven aquí!”_

Not having any knowledge in Spanish doesn’t stop him from guessing the dog just got commanded to go to whoever it was that was calling out to him. Naturally, Teddy doesn’t listen for shit and it strangely enough kind of makes Castiel happy to know he isn’t the only one that doesn’t see eye to eye with him, that is of course _after_ he’s gotten past the initial scare of seeing that _thing_.

Now, Teddy might not have even noticed him, too wrapped up in escaping whatever duties a dog could possibly have, but the lady Cas had currently only been introduced to via voice does. She stops dead in her tracks at the bottom of the stairs where Castiel is still glued into place.

“Señor!,” she gasps as she straightens herself up, “what are you doing out? Mr. Winchester say you stay in! In bed, go!” Before he has any chance of explaining himself or asking for the glass of water he so desperately needs, he’s being guided back up the stairs, firmly yet with a soft hand, like only a mother could do.

He tries to reason, tries to tell her he just wanted a drink but she’s not having it. “I get water, you sleep now. Doctor will be soon!” _The doctor, right…_ With the insane rollercoaster that had been the past twelve hours, Castiel completely forgot about that, though, it’s a rather pleasant reminder he’ll at least get actual medical care after being snatched from the safety of his hospital room all too quickly.

~

Just as promised, the next time he opens his eyes there’s a glass bottle of water waiting for him. He’s in the middle of chugging it when the woman from earlier darts into his room without knocking, startling him in the process and making him spill the contents of his mouth down his neck and over the silk pyjama top. _When did that happen?_

He gets an eye roll followed by a muttered _‘niño’_ which in turn makes him feel like a scolded child but again, it doesn’t seem bad natured, it actually almost felt lovingly. How in the hell is this woman working for Mr. Winchester? All of the staff Castiel had met were bodyguards packing guns, not 5ft5 Spanish women sporting neat outfits and packing nothing but bobby pins in a tight hairdo.

“What’s your name?” he asks once he’s done sputtering and has wiped the water from his mouth. “Paula.” Oh, so this is Paula. “It’s nice to meet you and, thank you,” Cas says, pointing at the bottle, “ _gracias_.” There’s a hasty dismissal of his gratitude but the small smile before she promptly sits down on the bed doesn’t go unnoticed.

He wants to feel awkward with a stranger sitting next to him, especially with how weird the entire situation truly must be. No matter how nice Paula is to Castiel, there’s no forgetting that the only reason he’s there in the first place is because his fake fiancé’s abuse landed him in the hospital, and that’s a messed up thing to keep in mind.

Paula on the other hand appears to be completely at ease apart from the worried frown. Either because she’s just part of the network and is comfortable with shady happenings like these or because she’s none the wiser on what’s actually at play here.

Castiel wishes to believe the second version of that theory.

“ _Guapo_ ” comes her motherly cooing as she gently pushes his sweaty hair aside and stares at him for a moment, then noticing his confused look and adding “handsome” as an explanation, chuckling softly. ‘Oh’ is all Castiel can respond to that.

He’s just completely taken aback by how sweet this woman is being with him. It’s quite unsettling unfortunately though. How was he to trust anyone working for Mr. Winchester? Would that man really go as far to get such a kind lady committing crimes? Or was Paula kept in the dark about what went on behind closed doors?

 _Come on, Castiel, don’t be ridiculous!_ “Thank you.”

She nods at him in a way that says she’s right and isn’t putting her judgement up for negotiation. If Paula said he was handsome, Castiel better believe it. Even with his damp hair, watery eyes and cheeks blushing a deep, fever pink.

He nearly has a heart attack when the doorbell ringing is followed by Teddy absolutely losing it and barking away as if the world is about to end. Couldn’t Mr. Winchester have chosen a damned Dachshund or something?

“Ah, doctor is here! You, stay.”

Castiel wouldn’t dare move even if his life depended on it.

Sure enough, when Paula reappears not even a full two minutes later, she’s followed by an older gentleman wearing what Cas assumes is yet another one of those four digit suits, the only thing giving away the man’s profession being the stethoscope around his neck.

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.” He greets politely while they shake hands.

“Oh, uh- please, Castiel is just fine.”

This clearly makes the man uncomfortable. Torn between meeting his client’s wishes and his own professional choices. “I insist.” he eventually settles, “I’m doctor Beaumont. I’ve been under the Winchester’s employment for three decades now and I will be at your service as I have been at Sir John’s and Sir Dean’s.”

He says it with such composed pride but Castiel just feels sorry for him.

“So,” Dr. Beaumont continues, pulling out an impressive collection of medical equipment, “I was requested by Sir to aide in attending to some unfortunate burns. Correct?”

“Yeah- yes. Burns, indeed.”

“Please remove your top, sir” he asks without looking up. But Castiel hesitates at that, unsure of whether him not feeling comfortable getting undressed has any influence at all on the choices he might or might not be granted with.

The doctor snaps his eyes up after a second when noticing the lack of movement. They’re wise yet understanding and patient as they hold onto Cas’s gaze for a moment before turning away in search of their target. “Señora Paula?”

She slightly jumps at hearing her name being called, clearly lost in thought but quick to dive right back into her whirlwind of a personality and hastily leaving the room after a smile and wink, perhaps off to finish dealing with Teddy.

“Right. If you don’t mind me asking, sir, when did these burns occur and what was their cause?”

“Uh, about a week ago. I accidentally spilled boiling water on myself.”

“Any previous treatments?”

He really should’ve paid more attention when nurses explained all the procedures they were doing. Too bad he was otherwise engaged with freaking out over Dean’s bodyguards posted at his door. “They, uh, put some cream on it and silicone. I’m- I’m sorry, I don’t know the names of the products used.”

“Oh, no, no, sir. Please, no need to apologize.” Dr. Beaumont smiles, looking up from his tablet, “I don’t expect you to know any of that jargon, you can leave the worrying to me. Did you have an I.V.”

That, he can answer. “Yes.”

“Perfect. Now let’s take a look, shall we?”

Castiel is in absolute agony for the fifteen minutes that follow. It’s not half as bad as when he had the wounds pinned down against a mattress while a stranger fucked into him but it’s no walk in the park either. Between gloved fingers inspecting the healing blisters, swabs drenched in disinfectant and new wound dressings being applied, Cas has to grit his teeth near the point of breaking them.

The list of medications Dr. Beaumont prescribes him after all is said and done is again something Castiel doesn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable with. He will have to chose between letting this mix of antibiotics and painkillers knock him down for the coming two weeks and therefore: make him even more vulnerable _but_ with the prospect of an earlier recovery.

Or, squirm his way out of actually following up on his prescription and staying more alert because of it but risking getting even sicker than he already is right now and jeopardizing the chances of getting on top of this any time soon.

It’s like choosing between the plague and cholera.

“For the coming four days, I will pay you a visit daily to attend to your wounds and follow up on your condition to ensure optimal healing. After that, I will come by once every other day until it can be concluded further care is no longer needed.”

 _‘That seems excessive’_ Castiel thinks to himself. Yeah, the piss-poor circumstances in the forty-eight hours after the initial injury had not been ideal, neither had the care afterwards been, but they were ‘just’ some second degree burns, was it really necessary to be coddled like a fragile child?

Then again, it was clear this wasn’t your average household, nor was Dr. Beaumont an average practitioner, rather a privately owned doctor paid thousands to pamper everyone of the Winchester family beyond what was strictly necessary and Castiel had to admit; he could be worse off.

“I won’t keep you any longer, sir. Was there anything else you would like to discuss with me?”

Cas nearly panics at that. Was he asked out of habit, some kind of patient protocol, or was it a genuine offer coming from an honest, concerned member of the public? Fuck if he knows. Much as with Paula, he wonders if he can even trust anyone employed by husband dear.

“No, doctor” he manages to say, regardless of how much it pains him to lie his way through what could possibly have been his only way out.

“Very well. Here’s my card. You can call me anytime, even during the night though in that case you might be in contact with a nurse on duty. They will put me through for you. Make sure to mention you’re a Winchester.”

He seems to hesitate for a moment, unsure, before stepping out of the room and Castiel stupidly, desperately wonders if maybe he’s about to be saved.

“It was nice making your acquaintance. 

Goodbye, sir.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : ...


	16. We've got tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: we've got tonight - Bob Seger 
> 
> "I've longed for love like everyone else does."

“What you did was extremely stupid and dangerous!” Dean yells. “You put your life at risk, Novak, after I specifically asked my staff to take care of you to the best of their abilities. I honestly expected more of you.”

And with that, Dean goes quiet, his eyes finally letting go of Castiel’s to look away for a fraction of a second. When he looks up again, those very eyes are filled with actual tears.

“What were you thinking?”

Castiel can do nothing but whisper a soft “I’m sorry”. He already felt bad about what he’d done but now he truly regretted his actions. Not that he carried Mr. Winchester’s opinion on the matter, at least not until this whole confession began and what had been a harmless choice got turned into a way to pour even more guilt into an innocent person.

“I just wanted to have a nice evening together,” Dean says, broken, “why’d you have to ruin it?”

~

Castiel remembers those days after he separated himself from Mr. Winchester now. How he’d lay in bed for hours and hours on end, only getting up to pee or have a glass of water. He remembers how his bones ached from being pressed against the mattress until what once was considered a soft comfort turned into hard stabs with every movement.

Most of all, he remembers how empty he felt and it wasn’t from the lack of food. No, he felt sad, alone and abandoned even though, technically, he was the one who demanded to be left alone. Wasn’t that what he had wanted? What he still wants?

There are only so many things one can blame on a fever, but pining for you capturer in some sick, twisted way isn’t one of them. Castiel knows that, he just doesn’t want to admit it.

If it wasn’t for Gabriel’s phone call-

 _Gabriel_.

Fuck!

“Señora Paula!” He screams, immediately sending himself into a coughing fit as he scrambles from underneath the silk sheets too quickly. The floor sways but he manages to stay upright. “Señora!” Cas calls again. This time, she comes running in, looking alarmed. “Sí, señor?!”

“My brother- he- my phone! Where’s my phone?”

“Sir, please! You go in bed!”

“No! You don’t understand! Fuck!”

_Breathe, Cas, breathe!_

Paula might not have anything on him strength wise, not that Castiel would resolve this with violence, but she still works for Mr. Winchester and therefore quite possibly holds his life in her hands. If he wants to get away with this, he’ll have to play it smart.

“My brother,” he says softly this time, “I need to call him. Let him know I’m okay.”

He gives her his best smile, ironically realizing he must look like a druggie begging for a fix with his bloodshot eyes and trembling, sweat-covered body. She seems to contemplate it though. “Mr. Winchester say no phone call."

_When did that become a thing?_

But before Castiel can start negotiating with her, she takes an annoyed breath and gives one of those motherly scowls that equally fills him with guilt yet also with child-like excitement, much like someone who, in the end, got what he wanted. “Sinco minutos!”

Five minutes? Great! That’s all he needs.

“Gabriel! Hey, I-“

“Cassius James Milton Winchester! Where the _HELL_ are you?!”

“Gabe, I’m so, _so_ sorry! Please listen-“

“No, you listen! I told you to call me! I was worried sick, Cassie!”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other side, silencing the thunder between them but Cas doesn’t dare speak. He can only image what must have gone through Gabriel’s head in the past twenty four hours and it isn’t pretty. He hurt Gabriel and despite anticipating what’s to come, the words still hit Castiel. Hard.

“Twenty years, Cas, twenty years! Every goddamn time my phone rings I still hold my breath in fear of it being someone telling me you’re dead, that you overdosed and wound up in a ditch somewhere! Do you know what that’s like? To constantly worry about your baby brother, not because he’s an idiot but because he’s an addict!”

 _Ouch_.

“Fuck, Cassie!” Hearing the unmistakable tears in Gabriel’s voice does it and Cas’s own hurt starts tumbling down.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say, Gabe. Other than ‘I’m sorry’ but that doesn’t mean shit, does it? I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m clean, I-”

“Well fat luck, kiddo! Look, I know it’s not fair. Addiction isn’t your choice, blah-blah, I get it. Staying clean? That’s on you, that’s your responsibility. But worrying about you? That’s mine!”

Castiel has to close his eyes when a shaky sob reaches him through the phone. He stands there for a minute; holding on to the wall to keep himself from just sinking to the floor as warm tears travel down his cheeks, pooling around hesitant lips.

“Gabriel…”

“Why didn’t you call, Cas?”

“Gabe..”

“I went to the hospital and you were gone! They said you left in a hurry, that the man you were with handled the discharge but they weren’t allowed to tell me more so I drove my ass to your house as fast as I fucking could. Guess what? You weren’t there! No phone calls, no texts, nothing! Do you realize what that looked like?! Fucking hell, Cas!”

 _I screwed up. Again_.

“Why didn’t you call?”

 _One job_.

“I’m sorry! Truly, I am! Mr. Winchester picked me up, insisted on bringing me home, I simply haven’t had access to my phone until now.” He inhales softly. If only he could transmit regret through waves.

“His staff is taking great care of me and his doctor even paid me a visit. Please, don’t worry about me, Gabriel. I’m sorry for making you so upset.”

“His staff, huh?”

“Gabriel, please.”

“Is that how it’s gonna be, Cassie? One taste of the old life and you dive right in again? If you want to spend more time with your playboy bunny, that’s fine, but next time: call me instead of ditching me like a prom-date.”

 _Fuck, this is frustrating!_ Having to lie and keep secrets is one thing but how far exactly is _too_ far? Was keeping his own skin safe really worth making Gabriel feel like shit? Castiel wasn’t so sure anymore.

“You know that’s not it, Gabe! Or did you forget _we_ used to have staff taking care of us?”

“Until we lost everything! And that’s on you!”

_Oh.._

“Shit, Cas- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. I get it.”

“Cas-“

“So, I explained why I didn’t call sooner and I apologized. Is there anything else or did you hear what you wanted to hear?”

Gabriel sighs, realizing how wrong he’s been in flipping out like that, he even chuckles softly and it instantly makes Castiel relax. He, too, coming down from his high. “Can you forgive me, Cas? I was worried, is all.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I always worry, it’s my job!”

“I know, Gabriel! But I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself.”

“Huh, sure. You’re still my baby brother, though and you ought to listen to me next time.”

“Promise. But for real now, I’m not supposed to be on the phone this long, I should be in bed.”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, of course. You feeling alright at least?”

“Doing much better already, thanks.”

“Good. ‘Cause you still owe me a night’s out.”

Yet again, Castiel’s thoughts are pulled back towards that one conversation he had with his brother all those nights ago. It feels like an eternity since they made these plans while in reality it hadn’t even been a full week.

“How about tonight?”

“Tonight? Are you even allowed to leave the house?”

Ha, that’s ironic. Of course, Gabriel is referring to Castiel’s physical state; silently asking if going out with a raging fever and a body full of antibiotics is a good thing but, to Castiel, there’s a second meaning lingering just below the surface:

Are you _allowed_ to leave the house?

It’s a question he’s asked himself at least half a dozen times since being brought to the mansion. One he’s stashed at the back of his head because he doesn’t need to think far to know the answer. Even without any verbal agreements, he knows there’s an unspoken rule keeping him on Mr. Winchester’s property at all times. No way was Dean going to agree to dinner with Gabriel.

But then again, Castiel always has been the defiant one, hasn’t he?

“Cassie, we could reschedule. It’s really no trouble, we could-“

“No, no. I’m sure. Pick me up at six, I’ll be at the end of the driveway.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. Don’t forget to text me the address!”

And so, that night, Castiel sneaks out of the house. He has to make his way down the long path slowly, keeping his breathing in check with every step but in the end, he finds himself at the second set of gates with Gabriel already waiting for him.

The nagging feeling that he’ll have to deal with Mr. Winchester sooner or later keeps tugging at him for the entirety of the car ride and even well past them making it to the restaurant. That is until their food arrives because, in all honesty, Castiel is _starving_.

“Hey, uh, Cas? I’m sorry” Gabriel says eventually, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“Gabe. It’s fine, I-“

“No, please. Let me finish. I really shouldn’t have. Even with me being worried, you didn’t deserve my preaching, I think you’ve been through enough already.”

There’s no use in arguing. He’d forgive his brother anyway but the genuine apology does soothe the slight sting still left from the words spoken earlier. “Thank you, Gabe. I’m sorry, too. I should have called.”

“All good?”

“All good.”

“So… really how are you doing?”

_Careful, Castiel._

“Good. Yeah, good. Things are good.”

Quickly shoveling some vegetables into his mouth doesn’t let him off the hook apparently. Gabriel even puts his cutlery down, Gabriel who would kill for food. “Are they, Cassie?”

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

“I know it’s none of my business, but this life -the fame, the fortune- it’s not easy. Being married to someone like Winchester… I’m sure it’s not all as glamorous as many think it to be. I mean, we’ve been there, in the spotlights and-“

“Exactly. We’ve been there before.” Castiel cuts him off, perhaps just a tad bit too defensive. “Sorry, it’s just, with our father and all… we grew up with paparazzi in our faces so that’s not the issue.”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s not the issue’? Is there something else?”

“No! No. That’s not what I meant. I just- his stature isn’t _an_ issue.”

Upon hearing the rambled response, Gabriel simply hums. At least he takes another bite of his food before asking further questions, making fire lick at his brother’s heels.

“How’s he treating you anyway? Because honestly, every time I saw him on TV before I kind of thought he was a dick.”

“Gabriel!”

“What? I’m just saying! I thought you despised men like him actually and then you suddenly call me to say you’re getting married to not just _a_ wealthy suit, but _the_ owner of Winchester Co. Wait, Castiel, is that it? Is that why you married him?”

“What are you even talking about?”

Gabriel leans forward a bit, lowering his voice. “Did you marry him for his money?”

“Gabe-“

“Hey, I wouldn’t blame you! He’s rich and he’s not hard to look at but there’s got to be some love involved too, right? Because if it’s money, Cas, we’ve got enough left in dad’s accounts.”

“I know!” He glances around nervously before turning back towards his brother and continuing in an equally hushed tone. “Money’s not the reason, Gabe. I was more than happy at Wesson.”

“I see. How’d you meet anyway?”

“At, uh, a business event.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : ...


	17. Could have walked away instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: You can run - Adam Jones 
> 
> "Could have walked away instead."

“I see. How’d you meet anyway?”

“At, uh, a business event.”

“Boring. So, what? He, untouchable sex god, spots the nerdy antagonist who doesn’t believe themself to be worthy of the lead role’s affection and miraculously, they fall in love?”

“Yeah,” Cas lies in shame, “basically.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Cas…”

Gabriel tilts his head slightly when he looks up again. They lock eyes and no matter how badly Cas wants to look away from the questioning gaze holding him down, Gabriel seemingly has no intention of doing such.

“Cas,” he says once more, “you know I love you, right?”

“Yes, of course! Is something the matter? You’re kinda freaking me out.”

It’s the truth. Gabriel isn’t childish, that’s not what Cas would call it but normally, his brother is always joking and laughing, it’s the guy’s way of handling things, but whenever the conversation turns more serious between them, that very laughter disappears.

“Please don’t get offended, Cassie, it’s just- you don’t seem all that happy.”

And in the blink of an eye, Castiel feels himself being dug deeper and deeper into the ground, as if with every new word, Gabriel shovels clear the path to a grave he doesn’t even know he’s digging.

The dangerous terrain currently surrounding them doesn’t leave Castiel much choice other than to be quiet and listen because one wrong word could give him away and ruin something that doesn’t just provide the grave but the actual bullet.

“How come you never told me about him? I know you explained you had to keep it under wraps but I’m your brother for crying out loud! I mean, hell, you even told me when you lost your virginity or when you sucked your first dick, but this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because there’s more to it!” Castiel manages to snap. If there’s one thing he hates it’s being backed into a corner with no way out, especially when he’s being accused of something that wasn’t within his reach. So when the threats come too close and he’s got nowhere to go: he barks back.

Funny, isn’t it, how that’s exactly what a dog would do?

“There’s a contract involved.”

~

Mr. Winchester is quiet, which is highly unusual for the man. There always seem to be orders, remarks or comments but not tonight. Every time Castiel dares glancing over, he’s met with a face turned away from him, the always straight shoulders now slumping a bit as if they’re succumbing to defeat.

He stopped trying to understand Dean a long time ago because frankly, there was no use in pondering over what evoked a certain reaction or why exactly Dean acted the way he did, that Castiel knew by now.

It didn’t help though.

What on earth could have caused Mr. Winchester to look so… _sad_? Certainly, it couldn’t have been Castiel having dinner with Gabe. There must be something else, something of deeper meaning currently still estranged from their lack of conversation but, what?

“Sir?”

No response.

“Sir, I- will you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“Novak, I suggest you shut up.”

Huh, that is the kindest way he’s ever heard that request being asked. Doesn’t mean he’ll comply, though.

“Sir, please. You’re obviously upset. Is there something I can do?”

“I think you’ve done enough.” Dean grits out before holding Castiel’s gaze for a moment of quiet anger and then eventually turning away again, “not another word” he adds, successfully ending the exchange however meagre it might have been.

~

“There’s a contract involved.”

“I knew it! You kinky fuckers.”

“Wait, what? Gabriel, what are you talking about?”

There’s raised eyebrows waiting for Cas, telling him he’s too naïve for his own good.

“A contract, you know, between those into some hardcore sex involving whips and chains and secret dungeons.”

 _Oh, he’s got to be kidding me_.

‘Spank me, daddy’ Gabriel whines mockingly.

“Gabe! For fuck’s sake. Stop, just- no. I wasn’t allowed to say anything because we couldn’t risk this getting out to the press. Do you understand, or is your teenage brain too wired on sex for you to even think straight anymore?”

Castiel is honestly losing his patience here, not due to his brother’s behavior -he’s used to it- but due to the unfortunate timing of it all. He’s already feeling unwell and downright jittery from the amount of anxiety waiting for him after every turn, being subjected to such a question is tricky enough as it is, he doesn’t need the added jokes and subtext. Not right now.

Of course Gabriel doesn’t let down. He goes straight back to it, ignoring Cas’s explanation completely.

“Sex, you said? So you _do_ have a secret BDSM dungeon! Damn, Cassie, I didn’t know you liked to be spanked, tied down and all of that!”

 _He doesn’t_.

“Does he hurt you?”

Castiel goes quiet, eyes suddenly interested in his half-empty plate. “Gabe…”

“Cas-“ Gabriel whispers, his excited shatter coming to a shrieking halt just in time to notice his brother’s genuine distress. He takes Castiel’s hand gently. “Cas, does he hurt you? For real? Because if so; you can tell me, you _need_ to tell me.”

Was this it? Could this be his one and only chance?

But Castiel never was the kind of person to give in to temptation -other than the drugs all these years ago- though this right here might be the best offer he’s ever had to turn down. The little nudge coming from someone he trusts making it that much harder to resist.

“Cas?” Gabriel tries again, worried and more pressing this time around.

“He, uh-“

His heart hammers in his chest. Body nearly convulsing with how it trembles. He fidgets, pokes the cold food, avoid Gabriel’s eyes, opens his mouth again,

Gets cut off by the phone snapping both of them back to reality.

“Sorry, just- just a sec!”

 _Mr. Winchester_.

“Y-yes?”

“Where the fuck are you, Novak?!”

Shit, Mr. Winchester is pissed. No, downright furious. The yelling makes Castiel flick his eyes up rapidly to gage if Gabriel can hear it coming through the phone. It doesn’t appear so.

“Paula said you made a phone call and when she went to check on you, you were gone. So either you tell me where you are so I can come and get you right now or I swear to God I will hunt you down.”

“I’m out for dinner with my brother, we-“

“Out for dinner, huh? Wow. Yeah, okay. Where?”

“At ‘The Seven’, you know-“

“No, I don’t know, Mr. Novak.”

“Right, well it’s on Bodkins’ Street.”

“Expect me in ten.”

He can’t even force a single word out after he puts his phone away, too stunned over what just happened. Gabriel on the other hand is right there to do the talking, chiming in with a quick “was that him?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was him.” Castiel says as lightly as he can. “He’s actually on his way here, he’d love to meet you.” Lies, lies, all of it lies. God, what was he thinking? Was he really going to tell Gabe the truth? That not only would have put his own life in danger but Gabriel’s too and that was the last thing he wanted to happen. From now on, the lies will have to do.

“When will he be here?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Oh.. that doesn’t leave us much time.”

“Time for what, Gabriel?”

“Brother, I’m serious. Quit dicking around! If something’s wrong you need to tell me _now_ , we’ll be out of here before the guy even arrives! So tell me, honestly, what’s going on between you two? Is he forcing you to do things you don’t want?”

_Yes. Yes he is_.

“No, he isn’t! Stop asking me that! Why would you even say such things? Our relationship is good!”

_Gabriel doesn’t seem convinced. It’s time to bring out the big guns_.

“Why can’t you just be happy for me, Gabe? I’ve finally got a good thing going on and here you are accusing my.. _husband_ of abusing me! If you wanna be jealous, go ahead-“

“Woah, woah, woah! I’m not jealous, broski. I’m w-“

“If you say you’re worried one more time, I swear…”

“What, being worried is a crime now? Jeez, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Castiel says a bit softer, “that’s not what I meant. Just… don’t overdo it, okay? For your own best will. Otherwise I’ll have to start worrying about you worrying too much. Does that make sense?”

“No, no it doesn’t.” They both laugh now, some of the tension flowing away as they do so.

“Him and I, we’ve got a smooth something going. I’m looked after, cared for, …”

“If you say so.” Gabriel answers genuinely with a small smile. “I guess you just looked a little sad, is all. Maybe it’s that ugly face of yours.”

“Thanks, asshole. I appreciate it.”

The brotherly banter can get annoying sometimes, Castiel will admit that, but honestly, it does make things easier to deal with and in fragile situations like this one, it’s exactly what’s keeping the broken pieces together when they’re so damn close to crumbling.

“Holy shit!” His brother suddenly whisper-yells as he nods over Castiel’s shoulder. “That’s him, right? Hot damn, he’s even better in real life. Okay, I’ll admit: I’m a little bit jealous.”

Cas nervously turns around and _yep_ , there he is, the one and only. It’s funny how out of place Mr. Winchester looks in a downtown restaurant like this one which serves food he probably wouldn’t even give his dog. Dean almost looks like a purebred Weimaraner roaming the streets: it doesn’t belong there.

However, Gabriel is completely star-struck by the man because let’s be honest: who isn’t? But Cas couldn’t give two fucks. At least with his brother by his side, plus being in a relatively busy restaurant, meant he was undoubtedly going to be treated to another round of spectacular play-pretend.

He wasn’t complaining, though. It offered him protection. For now.

“Heya, darling” Dean says oh-so-sweetly before flashing his dazzling teeth and then, completely unexpected; bends downs, slides his hand up Cas’s cheek and kisses him. It’s firm and possessive and just on the verge of too long to be publicly acceptable but it’s all by design of course. It’s an act.

“And you must be Gabriel!” he continues without skipping a beat, already shaking hands. “It is so nice to finally meet you, Castiel’s told me a lot about you.”

“Only the good stuff I hope?”

“I doubt there’s anything but.”

And just like that, Castiel has to watch how the person he cherishes most in this world is making friendly chatter and laughing with the very man who only one night ago was assaulting him in the shower.

He wants out, wants to get away from there as quickly as possible. Luckily for him, the way Mr. Winchester is still standing up and showing no intention of having a seat at their table makes it clear for everyone that he’s there to take Castiel home with him.

“It was nice meeting you. I’ll be sure to invite you over so we can all have dinner together. Of course it will have to be after this poor thing feels better, huh?”

Dean seals the act by pulling Cas up and pressing a kiss to his temple before putting a hundred dollar bill down. “Have a good evening, Gabriel.”

~

As soon as the doors close behind them, Mr. Winchester breaks down in the much-anticipated but therefor not less frightening tirade. He starts yelling about how stupid it was of Cas to go out with a fever, how angry he is that his direct orders were ignored, how disappointed he is.

“The factory,” Dean snaps after another one of Castiel’s attempts at trying to understand why Mr. Winchester seemed so upset. “The factory’s opening is tomorrow. I thought we could celebrate, together, but you went ahead and ruined that. I hope you’re happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones


	18. So you wanna start a war?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'start a war' - Valerie Broussard  
> "So you wanna start a war, in the age of icons."

He can do this. It certainly isn’t his first rodeo, yet Mr. Winchester can’t seem to shake his nerves this time around. Everything from the cameras and the crowd to the cheers and blinding lights should- no, _do_ feel like home because this right here, being drooled on for just existing, is his playground, his palace and he’s the king.

But when Mr. Winchester cuts through the satin ribbon as effortlessly as the applause rolls over him, there’s only one place his mind drifts to. And that’s Castiel.

“Where’s that handsome fiance of yours?” someone had asked out of the blue, quite frankly taking Dean by surprise with the twist of interest. This was the opening of one of the most discussed factories for crying out loud, why in the hell would anyone care about Castiel?

Of course, Dean recovered quickly, stating that the man in question was simply indisposed at the moment while leaving out the whole ‘I’m keeping my fake husband-to-be on house arrest’ and instead teasing the crowd with the possibilities of Cas being present at the exclusive party happening the following week. It seemed to please them. At least enough to refrain from asking about fiances and a non-existing romance, but the damage had been done: Mr. Winchester’s attention shifted so drastically he wasn’t able to truly focus on anything for the remainder of the night.

Just thinking about the headaches Mr. Novak had caused him are enough for uneasiness following him around, never ceasing to loosen its grip from what was supposed to be pleasantries and smooth sailing, not even when _he_ walks in.

“Congratulations on the factory, Mr. Winchester.”

God, the British accent alone is doing a spectacular job at making an already pissed off Dean nearly forget about the hundreds of reporters still surrounding them and starting a gang war right then and there. Though, he kind of already had, hasn’t he?

“Mr. Davies,” Dean grits out, his smile only for the cameras, “congrats on the shittiest part of town.”

“So, you’ve heard.”

“Of course I’ve heard. You obviously know who I am, it’s only fair I do my homework, too. Besides, ain’t no new biscuit taking over the Brits without me taking notice” he counters, then followed by an invitation to take this outside, away from any possible eavesdropping.

Leading a double life doesn’t come without struggles, Dean knows. It’s important to keep business and pleasure separated at all times, though right now, he isn’t sure which is which anymore with his factory tying into territorial pissing contests and Castiel currently living in his mansion.

Neither of those factors take away from the pressing urgency of threading carefully, that goes without saying, because one mishap, just one slip-up, could land him a lifetime in jail and everyone knows you can’t be a king if there’s no kingdom to rule.

“You see,” Mr. Davies begins as soon as they step into the back alley, “Ketch was an important and valued member to our.. _society_.”

Cutting right to it then.

“His unfortunate death stirred up a lot of emotions previously buried, a newly risen wave of outrage, so to speak. But you knew that already, didn’t you, Mr. Winchester? You’re a smart man. Dangerous? Yes, but smart as well. Or did you really think your actions-“

“Let me stop you right there, Mick. May I call you Mick?”

“You may not.”

“Uhu. So, _Mick_ , I don’t know what you’re getting at but I suggest you do it quick. And if you’re here to intimidate or threaten me, I recommend you pick your words carefully or they’ll be the last thing you ever said. In regards to that precious teacup of yours, I made it shatter. That’s what you get when you mess with my property. Perhaps you could teach your men some decent manners?”

Mr. Davies scoffs in utter shock, shooting daggers as he strikes back. “Your property? _Your property_?!” He snaps. “If I remember correctly, _Dean_ , you gave your whore away as collateral. I thought the rumors where false, you know? Certainly a leader couldn’t be so stupid to stir up dirt over a piece of meat he’d already thrown in the trash but here we are; the famous ‘Mr. Winchester’ crying over some faggot prostitute!”

~

“Take me home.” Dean snarls. “Take me home! Now!” That finally makes his bodyguards and driver scramble to their assigned positions, away from the scene they’d just witnessed.

The blood will be washed away by falling rain, marks where bodies collided with the earth erased as breezes of wind sweep it all way in one motion of innocence by natural force. Words spoken, however, will forever linger there, their legacy carried on by the permanent memories now made.

And the bonds broken? Those will follow the traces of equally fractured bones, perhaps even growing within when the wounds heal but damage remains.

But who cares, right? Who cares about this false sense of impending doom when it has been creeping up onto the very person carrying its early beginnings? Mr. Winchester suspected shooting Ketch would come with sufficient consequences, expected it even, yet there’s something more in the water, something that tastes of blood and reeks of war, and it is already seeping into his Armani shoes.

“Make sure we’re not followed,” Dean huffs in blind rage, “and hurry up, will you?”

“Sir? Perhaps a visit to-“

“Did I fucking stutter? Take me home! I’m fine. Besides, I gotta check up on those fucking idiots, make sure Novak hasn’t ran off again! God, I can’t even trust Paula anymore.”

He thought keeping an injured, harmless man within the bounds of the property was a pretty straight-forward command but yet somehow, Paula managed to mess up. She’s too soft and it resulted in Novak sneaking out. Yes, he merely went to have dinner with his brother but Castiel could have escaped, could have gone to the cops. Who knows what he even told that other guy and-

“You know what?! Fire her. I’m done with her shit.”

“Sir, you want to fire Paula? But she is-“

There isn’t even the need for words this time. When Dean’s eyes make contact with the driver, there’s enough momentum of anger behind it that it makes the car go silent promptly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

~

Yet again, Castiel woke up to a house so eerily quiet, he almost admired it for hiding the atrocities that went on between its walls, made up out of nothing but lies and abuse. How could a building of such grandeur spark wonder from the outside as it lay rotten from within?

Then again, if something looks too good to be true, it mostly is. Especially when its foundation has been laid by actions no one speaks of in fear of being heard, because in Mr. Winchester’s world, knowledge is power and that can be a dangerous thing.

“Good morning” he greets, politely nodding towards Paula who’s already busy cleaning the kitchen. ‘ _Does she ever leave?’_ Castiel suddenly wonders. Now that he thinks about it, she’s always around, even before the crack of dawn and still there when he aimlessly wanders through the endless corridors in the middle of the night. _Wait, she’s not…_ but before he can further tumble down a path of wondering if perhaps she’s held here against her will, Paula is nudging him with a bowl full of fresh fruit that just absolutely smell like heaven. It suddenly seems days since he’s last eaten.

Perhaps it is.

Despite how hungry he is though, Castiel eats his food slowly. Painstakingly so and all with one purpose that unfortunately brings forth a haunting reminder with every bite because you see, his chest still aches, it pulls and twists every time burnt skin twitches against a satin-silk mix.

So now he eats his food slowly. That way the coffee is cold before his mind dares wandering to it.

“Did you sleep okay?” Castiel finally manages to ask once he’s a bit more awake. Normally, the silence would make him feel awkward but the combination of sleeplessness and meds have left him too tired to care. It’s not like he minds Paula quietly sitting next to him anyway.

But the attention shifting towards her seemingly causes a ripple in the aforementioned peaceful atmosphere. She stands up, turns away from Castiel’s gaze and gives him nothing but a barely audible mumble that doesn’t even resemble an actual answer.

What the hell was going on?

“Paula, are you okay?”

“I should go back to work, señor. I should-“

She falls silent, unable to finish.

“Paula?”

It’s a soft question, careful, as he removes himself from the table and approaches her while gently pushing past the barrier she tries to put between him and whatever truth she’s hiding. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

She doesn’t. Her face says enough.

“Oh..” Castiel releases on an exhale.

“Oh, that _fucker_!”

~

“That fucker will pay for what he’s done!” Mr. Winchester screams somewhere at the other side of town. He’s enraged, downright furious despite none of this being a new thing under the sun. He’s seen gang leaders come and go, he’s taken well over a handful of lives, and most of all: he’s been threatened more times than he can count. That doesn’t mean it stings any less though.

His notoriously bad temper with violent tendencies is nothing new either, Mick should have know a fistfight would follow for Dean isn’t one to back out of one so easily. Luckily for the both of them, due to the circumstances of the previously attended event, neither were carrying guns or that sprawl could have ended very differently.

They now walked away with mere cuts and fractures, the bruises left for their egos.

“I’d watch your back, Winchester” Mick had said before spitting in his face, “there’s a war coming.”

Oh, shit’s about to go down and surprisingly, Dean is ready for it. In his opinion, he did nothing wrong. Ketch shouldn’t have disrespecting him by damaging the part of their deal that was Castiel and that’s final. Mr. Winchester believed and still believes himself to be king of the castle. They want a war? Fine, they’ll get one.

~

Something's wrong. Castiel knows it as soon as he hears the shouting coming from downstairs, followed by slamming doors and more heated exchanges between a number of men whom he cannot distinguish just yet. Even Paula, who’s sitting next to him on the bed, the first aid kid still between them, seems instantly alarmed as she moves away from Cas.

The bruises on her face from where Dean had hit her seem even more prominent in the low light but all of Castiel’s mustered up courage was quickly drowned out by the yelling reaching his bedroom. He was going to confront Mr. Winchester, even if it meant he’d get seriously injured -or worse- while doing so.

Apparently him sneaking out of the house to meet with Gabriel had been at Paula’s expense and he just feels gut-wrenchingly awful about it. Him getting hurt he could handle, but other’s getting abused because of him was a whole other department.

He was gonna fight his way out of this one if needed. Turns out he never stood a chance because before he knows it, there’s a gun pressed directly at his heart, painfully digging into healing scars.

“You,” Mr. Winchester growls, “this is all your fault. Do you even know what you have done?! We’re at war, you hear me? And all because you couldn’t keep your damn legs shut! You’re a fucking whore and you’re going to pay for it!”

All it takes is one nod from Dean.

Castiel is blindfolded, grabbed by two men and dragged out of the room in a split second. He knows not even God himself could save him from this yet Castiel prays and prays,

And fails.

“You ended my life,

Now I will be ending yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : ...


	19. If you are to survive this night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'Where the river ends' - OTEP (extra trigger warning for this song, it's intense and references rape).  
> "You must lick honey from a thorn, if you are to survive this night."

Dean’s fingers drag along the steel countertop Castiel can only imagine as being cold to the touch. It’s strange to watch, the sheer nonchalance portrayed, it almost resembles an out-of-body experience for him. He’s beyond terrified, so much so that the thought of urinating on himself from fear doesn’t seem too farfetched, or perhaps he’s done it already. There’s no telling anymore.

He’s been sitting on that chair for at least twelve hours, though his judgement could be off. After all, Cas’s only way of semi-telling the time is whenever Dean leaves the room and is too quick in opening another door in the adjacent corridor, giving way to distant light trickling in from somewhere Castiel cannot pinpoint.

Another way of vaguely counting the hours that have gone by since being shoved out of a car, dragged over the ground like a child’s old blanket and receiving a relatively mild beating before getting his hands tied behind his back, is paging how numb his behind has gotten from not having the freedom of moving even an inch.

That, and how painfully his hands are thumping from the rope cutting into his wrists, or how hazy his vision has become from being kept in almost complete darkness for extended periods of time. And of course, how Dean cocks and de-cocks that damned gun every so often.

At least being Mr. Winchester’s “assistant” over the past few weeks has taught him a few things, one he never could have dreamt about coming in handy, but here we are. Castiel quickly learned that Dean checks his gun approximately once every two hours, almost like clockwork.

A strange and unsettling habit to have but hey, if he were a psychopathic criminal and murderer, Castiel would watch his own back as well.

“What’s the matter?” Dean had asked him out of the blue, mockery present in every word, concern oppositely absent. “Is the little lamb afraid of the big bad wolf?”

That was -in all sense of the word- cruel. Of course Castiel was afraid. But then again, Dean’s mockery wasn’t as much of a question as it was a statement portraying the obvious, a way to throw metaphorical salt in the very real wounds.

“What do you want from me?” was all Castiel had been able to come up with. A mistake he’s still bitterly thinking about as he’s quite literally left to stew in his own juices. It had only agitated Mr. Winchester even further. The very little patience that was there in the first place ran out, the time for mind games came to an end, and for once, that wasn’t a good sign.

Without further ado, lights were snapped on, finally giving way to pair a visual to the vague shuffling Castiel had been forced to overhear earlier, so as soon as his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, he can see this was for real. The mind games really did come to an end.

Before him sits a man, a person he’s never met, yet the instant they see each other, there seems to be some strange form of connection stemming from their shared ordeal. This person is equally tied to a chair, hands drawn back and a dirty rag cutting into whimpering lips, though – even if it seemed impossible to Cas- this man appears to be the one fearing for his life, not the other way around.

“Mornin’, boys” Dean greets, nauseatingly chipper regarding the circumstances, “let’s get to it.”

~

“Let’s get to it.”

The room immediately goes quiet. That’s simply what happens when you take a dominant, authoritative, and well-respected man like Mr. Dean Winchester and put him in front of a select group of his most dedicated business partners.

There’s no denying it, even if you had no clue as to who this CEO was, the over the top expensive clothes combined with an attitude that is both equally despised and admired, you can’t help but be awe-inspired.

As was Castiel, a then twenty-three year old law student granted his first internship under the watchful eye of Mr. Turner, a good teacher but also a man close to retirement who never gave two fucks to begin with. But Castiel never complained. An internship within corporate law meant he would be given the chance to visit some of the biggest companies over the span of eleven weeks, and perhaps even attend some board meetings.

That day had been one of them, at Winchester International Co., nonetheless; _the_ most discussed and sought after internships. Though back then the company was technically still being run by John Winchester, his son was well on his way to take over, the expansion of some Massachusetts establishments being a ‘small’ first individual project for Dean.

It’d started well. Really, it had. That was until chatter simmered down, PowerPoint slides were clicked through, and things actually began to take shape within the momentum created. Castiel found out the hard way that the faces behind globally known companies didn’t turn out to be ones worthy of admiration, but rather exactly true to their name given: ‘faces’.

Faces, façades, nothing more than fonds specifically designed to hide the one truth Castiel uncovered right then and there, as degrading green eyes looked down on him while Mr. Winchester bluntly stated a ‘pretty piece of ass’ like Mr. Novak couldn’t have possibly gained a spot in that room by being ‘smart’, if you know what I mean.

The whole room laughed as he was casually harassed by sexually inappropriate comments.

Of course it was brushed off by Mr. Turner. Not in a ‘this is okay’ way, but in a ‘I’m old and have grown up in a generation where women were still only believed to cook and clean’ way. It stung, for days, weeks even, as Castiel had to watch some of the people present during that meeting give speeches at humanitarian events mere nights later.

“Let’s get to it.” Mr. Winchester had exclaimed before immediately continuing to casually discuss how erasing a natural forest could be justified by offering some of the jobs within the new establishments to ‘those poor Latinos’. For Castiel, a ten year (and ongoing) hatred had started.

~

Dean absolutely relishes in how the stranger flinches under his touch.

“This,” he grins, “is a very bad man, Mr. Novak. We caught him with his arm down the panties of a little girl. And this-“ Dean's hand travels down, over every inch of twisting muscles until it comes to rest over the person’s crotch, fingers curling and digging till they elicit a muffled set of screams, “-this was hard as a rock.”

Dean steps away then, turning so he’s standing closer to Castiel but can still keep his eyes on both victims as he resumes. “My, my, Mr. Novak. Very bad indeed. Can you imagine what would have happened if my men and I hadn’t stumbled upon that situation? Would this pervert have fucked that innocent, sweet child?”

The pause that follows is long and utterly, devastatingly useless in preventing the inevitable because even if they weren’t gagged to silence, Cas is sure neither he himself, nor the other man would have dared to speak up. It’s almost as if Dean somehow still expects an answer, current habits of being a self-possessed egomaniac don’t die young, I guess.

But he drags on, despite the unwillingness of his audience.

“Now, why am I telling you all this, Cassie? You see,” Dean moves again, this time until his body is pressed against Cas’s sweaty back so he can purr the next words directly against cold cheeks,

“you’re going to kill him.”

_No, no, no, no, no!_

Castiel tries, tries so hard to yell and fight and just do _anything_ , but all he gets is a very angry Winchester screaming in his face.

“Oh, hush! Just shut the fuck up! Shut up! Listen closely, you little shit, I’m not asking, I’m fucking telling you to put a bullet through that pedophile, end of story. You understand?”

_No, just-_

“Do you- fucking understand?!” Even with the fingers digging into his jaw, even with that gun carving threats into his chest, Castiel still shakes his head. No, no way was he going to murder someone.

“Just look at him!” Mr. Winchester shouts again as he violently pushes himself away from plaything #1 and points at chew toy #2. “Fucking look at him! That man is nothing more than a scumbag who was about to stick his dirty little cock in some virgin, underage pussy! Look at him!”

But Castiel already had. From the moment light shone upon the face before him, up until the very moment Dean stood waving a weapon at his heart, Castiel had looked at the man. He’d seen the tears in haunted eyes, the fear of a life worth living being taken away, the begging.

And for some reason, that had instantly brought a sense of peace for him, unlike the feeling he gets when looking into those green eyes, the eyes of serial killer unable to hide a lifetime of atrocities and wrongdoing, even if they’re masked by charming smiles made to distract, mislead.

Those desperate whimpers with restrained, yet panicked movements had told him enough. This was an innocent man most likely snatched from his home as his partner and kids watched. It makes Castiel want to faint from desperation, so all he can do is shake his head one more time, hoping for a miracle in which it will suffice.

Oh, how fragile hope is easily shattered.

“Fucking hell, Novak! What happened to all your ‘holier than thou’ bullshit, huh?! Or did you forget that is exactly what got you in this situation? Even the first time we met, you started a public bitch fit because you couldn’t stand my ‘environment destroying factory’ messing with your unrealistic utopia of a world where every tree is saved and we all act like fucking fairies or some shit!”

Isn’t it funny, how one’s mind -even in the face of disaster- every so often decides to focus on that one, insignificant thing amongst the misery surrounding it, and transforms it into some twisted lifeline to hold onto?

 _‘Huh, he doesn’t remember we’ve already met, ten years ago’._ For some reason, that gives Castiel a sense of clarity. However sad it may sound, Dean not remembering him means Cas has not been present in such a sick, vile, evil mind over the past decade and that, to him, is a small comfort.

Too bad he, and the man he’s been ordered to kill, seem to be the only ones on that very mind.

He doesn’t even flinch when Dean unbounds him.

“I don’t think I made myself clear” Mr. Winchester snaps, unnerved, “it’s either him, or you”. Now fire that fucking gun.”

Castiel can hear the voice slowly, yet still all too rapidly counting down from five, each number almost coming as an unwelcome surprise to him despite knowing very well that four is undeniably followed by three and that there’s no way of stopping it.

He studies the gun. It’s heavy, not only due to the stainless steel resting in his hands, but also with one of world’s hardest questions weighing it down, getting more difficult to carry with every new intake of breath.

“Two.”

This time, Castiel cocks the gun and nearly snaps out of his trance-like fright by how much louder it sounds now that it’s produced by his very own fingers. There’s purpose, no destination though a clear trajectory. It --no, _he—_ is getting ready to kill.

A thousand whishes could’ve never been enough to plea for a second chance, neither could a thousand prayers ever wash away his sins because, what he was about to do was an action of the unforgivable kind. Unforgivable not only by himself but by the universe, by whatever man in the sky you do or do not believe in.

“One.”

_I’m sorry._

Castiel pulls the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : Where the river ends - OTEP  
> * Chapter 20 : ...


	20. Can you help me out of my misery?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'Light up' - Isak Danielson 
> 
> "Sometimes I wish I didn't feel  
> The demons that run inside of me  
> Can you help me out of my misery  
> ’Cause I need someone  
> To keep me calm when I can't breathe"

“Is your husband still on holiday, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean nearly snaps at the young gentleman in his office, ready to yell something like “that’s none of your fucking business, who the hell do you think you are?!” but as he looks up, he’s met with a friendly smile, not the cold-blooded grin he was expecting.

_Right, this is business._

Business-business, not ‘running-gangs-and-murdering-people’ business. So Dean smiles.

“Yeah,” he says softly, “well-deserved.”

He then quickly adds that Castiel will be back soon, three weeks and counting of being absent from the company was becoming suspicious, even if you’re the CEO’s partner in both corporation and marriage.

The man ends up finally closing his briefcase while still making small talk at Dean’s expense, unaware of the sensitive topics he’s touching. “I hear Greece is real nice this time of year. I wouldn’t want to leave either.”

No matter how airy and innocently that was said, it still struck a nerve for Dean. Not that he needed much these past days, but still. He’s about ready to rip the guy’s head off in an act damning that stupid smile to where the sun doesn’t shine, when the thirty-something continues in that same amiable tone and says: “though, your husband does have a great life and good husband to return to.”

Mr. Winchester is still pondering over what in the world that guy had been talking about hours later. He was so tired of chatting, everyone asking him about Castiel. Who the hell cares? But that’s just the deal with this life, isn’t it? All simple, white, straight employees, going home to their perfect wives and vanilla sex after work. Of course they’ve got nothing better to do than banter with their boss as if he were their best friend.

“Fine weather today huh, sir?” they moan, or “how’s married life treating you?” they ask, giggling like teenage girls as they sip on yet another cup of never ending, overpriced office coffee.

If he wouldn’t need a fond to cover for his extracurricular activities, Dean would have given up on this life a long time ago. The increasing difficulties of keeping private and business separated not really helping.

_‘a great life and good husband to return to’_

Yeah, that’s right, though Dean nearly fumes at his enlightenment. A good life is what it should have been. A new plaything, an easy target fit to fill his need for control, a literal punchbag that comes with oh so delicious sound effects when beaten.

But Castiel is softer than he thought. If Mr. Novak had just been some woman to be seduced, fucked and discarded like all the others, Dean would have gotten rid of him already, thrown on the pile of forgotten garbage, skin touched by a king no longer of import.

“That’s what happens, Mr. Winchester,” Ketch had said to him days before their deal, “that’s what happens when you decide to share your throne; you’re no longer the sole leader and that makes you _weak_.”

Of course, Dean had then traded off Castiel without a second thought, because deep down, he’d known Ketch was right. The only thing that finally made him decide between killing the snob of the Brits or the princess of the Americans was hands being laid where only his belonged.

Castiel was his to play with and his alone.

~

“Jesus Christ, man up! You killed some poor bastard, so who cares?!”

Castiel does. Castiel cares. He _killed_ someone.

And that’s all Cas could think about as he averted his eyes from the blood spreading in such a calm manner, flowing without a care in the world. But then again, why wouldn't it? There’s no need for rushing, for hurrying in going down the drain when the deed has already been done.

So it spread, slowly, until coating Castiel’s bare feet as they were dragged over the concrete once more. They say people would step in blood to obtain a Louboutin walk, red rolling out the carpet in front while leaving an equally dark trail behind, forever following you around as strangers admire the luxury and compliment the color.

That’s what it is; a luxury. It’s a luxury to kill and not care, to kill and get away with it. At least for Mr. Winchester because you see, Castiel isn’t in Greece. He never was. He’s locked in some house in downtown New York where Dean’s guards stand plentiful day and night, though further not paying him any attention. All they care about is keeping Cas away from the public to avoid anyone seeing him like this and to prevent him from alerting authorities.

They don’t care about the screams cutting through midnights, or about sweat-soaked sheets being picked up by staff every day. They don’t even bat an eye at the tears, nor the fights. Castiel is a liability and that’s that. Nothing more than a nuisance to be dealt with.

“Sir, he’s been asking about.. _stuff_ ” Lukas had said on the phone roughly a week after the facts. That was when Dean finally decided to take a little trip west to deal with the situation himself because his own bodyguards apparently weren’t capable of doing so themselves.

What he found upon entering the estate was -to put it mildly- a mess. And he wasn’t referring to the shattered glass littering the floor. No, what he was staring at was the shell of the man as lost in the world as he was the day he was born.

“What’s going on, Novak?"

One distressed glare is all he gets before the inevitable “fuck you”.

Dean just takes a deep breath as he clenches his jaw and looks away for a second. He needed to tread lightly, this wasn’t a time for more drama than there already was so he finally walks into the room and crouches down. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel just scoffs, “what’s wrong? Oh, I don’t know! How about, you made me fucking kill someone!”

“For fuck’s sake! I need you to get over it! Don’t you get it?”

“You are unbelievable,” Castiel says softly, “you disgust me.”

_‘Tread lightly, Dean.’_

“What can I do to help? My guys said you’ve been asking for stuff.”

The silence between them goes on for so long, Dean nearly walks away and locks Cas back in a cage like a dog that just doesn’t seem to want to learn, but then tear filled, tired eyes look up.

“Drugs.”

“I’m sorry, what the-”

“I said I want drugs!” Castiel now sobs. “Congratulations, you’ve officially broken me.”

For a lack of a better answer and for being completely dumbfounded, Mr. Winchester actually asks “what kind of drugs?”, perhaps hoping he understood it all wrong. But when the man before him begs ‘just get me anything, please!’, Dean knows he messed up. For real this time.

“No.”

Would his authority work in a situation like this? Of course not, what was he thinking? It’s dead silent for only a split second this time before the raging argument continues with a “You don’t get to do this! You involve me, make me participate. And- and I can’t even go to the police, can I? You probably own them. You own _me_!”

‘ _Damn right I do_ ’ Dean thinks, nearly says out loud.

“I get it-“ Cas says as he finally slumps down against the bed again. “I get it. You’ve got me where you wanted me all along; pinned down with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. I can’t get out of your contract? Fine. But then at least give me something to get through it.”

~

Never had Dean seen a person more closely resemble an angel than the one before him, even with life edging soft lines in once smooth skin, like rivers carving away pieces of stone, did she still look as flawless as his earliest memories of her.

It didn’t matter that her hair was no longer of bright golden color, to him, she’d always soothe his heart much like sunsets once did in a past feeling further away than it really is. Her hands had become rougher, too. No longer being the softest surface on earth to a five year old, yet still perfectly interlocking with those of a twenty-four year old.

Mary was dying and it was his fault.

~

He considers it. And later will regret even considering it. But-

“No,” Dean decides, “I’m not giving you drugs.”

“Why-“

“What? ‘Why not?’ Is that what you’re asking me?!”

Of all the things he could have said ‘because you’re an addict, that’s why!’ was probably not the best one. But as most bad choices in life, they’ve already been made by the time we change our minds. Dean can’t take back what leaves the man before him quiet in defeat, he can only throw in a feeble attempt at getting it all to make sense to Castiel. Why doesn’t Cas just see it?

“Don’t you get it?”

It must be something in Mr. Winchester’s voice. Gazes previously glued to the ground gather enough momentum to rise up and face the truth hidden in a lie.

“Don’t you get it?” Dean pleads. “ _I need you._ ”

~

He was the one who dragged his father out there. He was the one who’d screamed and raged until he finally got what he wanted because even at a young age, Dean caught on to what could be achieved. Not that he fully understood when he was a child, but even then did he take notice of the whole ‘do as I tell you or you’ll end up hurt’ schtick.

As he grew taller, his temper became shorter, and it wasn’t long before he turned over some stones where he shouldn’t have; the Italians. Naïve as he was, a young Dean didn’t fully realize that the banter between him and Alessandro wouldn't stay just that.

Mr. Romano got involved, so did his men, inevitably leading to Mr. Winchester having to step in as well. And back then, when spoken of ‘Mr. Winchester’ one was still referring to John Winchester.

One thing led to another, up until the point where it came within inches of escalating into yet another war between gangs. The only thing stopping such bloodshed? The bullet in John’s brain.

It was all downhill from there for Mary. Though still being relatively young, the loss of her husband slowed her down, it made her ill, turning her into a ghost long before she became one and Dean knew it somehow was his fault, denying it made no difference.

It didn’t matter that Mr. Romano succumbed to his injuries that same week. It didn’t matter that Dean now ran the Winchester family. It didn’t even matter that he came out on top in the fight between his family and the Italian’s since Alessandro was unfit to take over, leaving Dean more powerful than them. Because, what good does it do you when the blood on your hands is not only your enemy’s but also that of both your parents?

“You won, sweetheart,” Mary had said to him so gently. Though, the sadness when she continued? That will haunt him forever. “You won, sweetheart,

but at what cost?”

~

What the hell was wrong with him? He should be happy, celebrating, for Castiel finally seemed to back down and roll over. For good this time around. This is what he had wanted all along. Yet, in a moment overcome by emotions so distant to him that they’d almost become estranged, Mr. Winchester feels too exhausted and defeated to even begin reveling in his victory.

He likes it when they fight back, entertain him, you know? He enjoys the challenge.

Crossing that line however, had never happened to him before. His toy lay broken in front him, possibly beyond repair, 'so what now?' he wonders. And the weird things is, Dean actually feels _guilty_.

“Don’t you get it, Cas?”

_‘You won, sweetheart’_

“I need you.”

_‘But at what cost?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : Where the river ends - OTEP  
> * Chapter 20 : Light up - Isak Danielson  
> * Chapter 21 : ...


	21. Lines traced by white ravens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'corbeau blanc' by Julien Doré. 
> 
> "Je ne sortirai pas des lignes tracées par les corbeaux blancs."  
> ("I won't leave the lines traces by the white ravens.")

Things _changed_ in the weeks that followed. Castiel got a few more days off from work, at Mr. Winchester’s house that is, no longer in New York and therefore: no longer in hiding. There had never been a greater urgency to sober up than there had been following their dispute. Yet, this time around, Castiel hadn’t even touched any drugs. This was a different kind of intoxicated.

Whatever happened that one night was made to be forgotten.

~

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

“No.”

“It’s still my body!”

“Should have thought about that sooner.”

It began with their fight in New York, with Castiel breaking down and every request for drugs being firmly denied by a fed up Dean. They’d gone on for nearly an hour, up to a point where bodyguards had to come between them when things threatened to become too heated, ultimately avoiding further damage in the eye of the storm.

But Dean was persistent and Cas was tired. All in all, considering how much hurt was still left unsaid, it had ‘only’ taken two hours to get everyone back home, somewhat settled, and safe, though tension not yet fading from laying thick upon them.

Castiel’s defenses were weak from the get-go, he knew that, but he’ll forever be set on not going down without a fight, so even as they’re walking to the front door, angry glares with hushed arguments were right there with them.

Dean, of course, completely ignores it. “Doctor,” he greets politely, “thank you for coming on such short notice.” The older gentleman immediately matches his behavior to Mr. Winchester’s fake concern, a response probably ingrained in his brains from years of pleasing his patients. It makes Castiel boil inside. How do people not see it? Why don’t people understand that everything about that manipulative bastard is fake?

Or maybe they do, but are too afraid to speak up.

“You said that your husband is feeling ill, correct?”

There we go again with the dramatics. Dean nods, a sadness in his eyes that almost makes him seem human, and that’s how you know it isn’t genuine.

Before Cas can throw another nasty look across the room -anxiety about the consequences no longer present- does Doctor Beaumont guide him towards one of the studies, for more privacy perhaps but, it’s only the three of them in the mansion and don’t think Dean is leaving Cas out of his sight, no matter what room the doctor takes him to.

The actual medical exam takes no more than fifteen minutes. All Castiel was allowed to do was sit there and let Dean answer any possible questions, that’s what they’d discussed beforehand. Even now, as he’s still sitting on the couch, fidgeting with his glass of water to wish away some of the nerves, Mr. Winchester is doing the talking for him.

He can see them standing in the living room but beside the vague words here and there, Cas can’t make out what they’re saying. Judging by the occasional frowned glances, which he pretends to ignore, it’s about him. More specifically: his physical condition.

It sounded more aggressive in his head, but when he spits “so, what’s the verdict?” once Mr. Winchester comes back from letting Doctor Beaumont outside, it only comes out as a sad, maybe slightly annoyed question at best.

“You’re lucky” is the verdict. Even though trouble was to be expected after the mess that had been their lives for the past three weeks, hearing such a statement makes Cas’ empty stomach drop. He’s just not ready for whatever punishment has been laid out for him.

Yet, what he had anticipated doesn’t seem to be happening. Dean is simply pouring himself a drink, rather casually in fact, and turns around just a moment later.

“Here.”

“I don’t- I’m not allowed to drink.”

“It’s alcohol-free.”

When Castiel takes a look at the bottle being pushed into his hands, he’s surprised that wasn’t a lie. The letters are small, as if they’re meant to be hiding their true contents because God forbid you’d drink beer without any actual alcohol. In the end, they still hold meaning. They mean something to _Cas_.

“Thank you.”

“No drugs. That includes liquor. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

For a second, Castiel thinks this is the moment he’d been waiting for and Dean’s snide remark about not being able to afford some drug addict ruining the business makes him believe he’s in for a good lecture even more but further reprimand remains absent.

Dean sits down instead and takes a gulp of Scotch. “Anyway, as I was saying. You’re lucky. The doctor said you’ll be fine.”

“What exactly did you tell him?” Castiel asks, carefully.

“The truth. Well- the truth, minus some details. I told him you struggled with drugs before and are going through a rough patch. I mean, I’m not wrong, am I?”

He hates to admit it but “no, you’re not.”

“Good. You’re just going through late onset withdrawal. He said you’ll be okay. Drink plenty of water, have some rest, yada-yada-yada. You won’t be getting the medication he prescribed though.”

Upon noticing, yet ignoring Cas’ confused look, Dean continues. “I won’t give them to you. I’m sure you understand why. Now-“

They’re interrupted by a certain empty stomach protesting against the weeks of malnourishment.

“Shit, you must be hungry. I’m sorry.”

And just like that, Mr. Winchester up and leaves the room, leaves Cas wondering what in the hell just happened. What was up with the mild temper today? First there’s Dean declaring ‘I need you’, then there’s the understanding gestures and the seemingly nurturing attention. Now a man who’s been spoiled by servants all his life runs off to get food at the slightest hint of hunger?

Nice things like these always left Castiel on edge, at least when they came from Mr. Winchester, because that guy could flip like a light switch and go from relatively gentle to downright terrifyingly violent in a matter of seconds. After rain comes sunshine, but here, rain always comes back, crashing through whatever nice image the pastel strokes had made to be enjoyed.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when Mr. Winchester darts back into the room, almost coming off as nervous. “It’s not much, uh- yeah, here.”

Castiel stares at the plate a full ten seconds before realizing the man that had him kill someone in cold blood, actually made him a sandwich and delivered it to his front door step, so to speak. “Thank you?”

Sensing the awkwardness in just sitting there as one of them eats, Dean takes off again, though this time he does so more casually, exclaiming he still has to ‘clean up the kitchen.’ He’s gone for a good few minutes, leaving Castiel plenty of time to wind down a bit. Man, is he tired.

When he hears the tell tale whistles, followed by Ted’s bedroom door being locked, he knows Mr. Winchester has gotten the dog inside and is settling for an easy evening, too. It isn’t much longer after that the CEO returns. Mr. Winchester has gotten rid off his jacket and tie, blouse slightly unbuttoned and Ralph Lauren socks quietly manoeuvring over the shiny hardwood floors.

He even takes Castiel’s now empty plate without a comment, only speaking again as he sinks down on the couch in the same spot he was before. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, yes. Thank you.”

Dean turns to face him this time and stays silent for a moment, as if unsure of what to say, the looks shared only speaking loudly enough through split seconds of comfort. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m _fine_.”

“No, really. How are you feeling, Cas?”

“I don’t- I’m not sure what you want me to say here. No offense, but up until now, you haven’t exactly cared about my feelings.”

That comment seems to hit Mr. Winchester somewhere deep inside. It’s not hurt, Castiel is still convinced this man is utterly incapable of actual emotions, so that’s impossible, but it does make something falter in the previously well kept together green eyes. It’s as if a realization set in, as if Dean only now noticed a detail he shouldn’t have overlooked in the first place.

“I suppose you’re right, and I’m sorry. I’ll have to take that into consideration from now on.”

“Why? I mean-“ Cas can’t even finish his sentence, too dumbfounded by what he’s hearing.

Mr. Winchester frowns as he smiles softly. It’s almost as if he’s surprised Mr. Novak hadn’t believed him earlier. “I told you: because I need you.”

“Yes, you keep saying that. What do you even mean by that?”

Dean’s hands are on him before he can process it but they’re not rough like he expected them to be, they’re kind, protective. One hand slides over his cheek, hiding the thin scar left there from when Ted bit Cas, almost wanting to cover it and make it disappear, while the other hand has its fingers resting between his collar bones, right above another set of scars received in this battle.

“You don’t believe me” Dean sighs. “These past few weeks, they’ve been different. I’ll be honest, I thought I’d enjoy going back to the way things were before.. _you_ , but we can’t go back now, can we? At least not yet. Every time someone asked me about how you’d been, it made me angry and it took me a while to see it but, it made me angry because you weren’t there with me. _That’s_ what I mean, Cas.” His fingers slide down as he confesses, all so he can tilt Novak’s face up and closer to his own. “I need you by my side.”

Castiel lets it happen. He doesn’t fight back when Dean kisses him. It’s possessive yet not demanding and it ends with that single claim left on the human in Dean’s arms after which Cas completely collapses in them, overcome by emotions and exhaustion.

Could he have been wrong all along? Maybe Mr. Winchester wasn’t the monster Cas had believed him to be. There’s a whirlwind of conflict waging through his brain all of a sudden, though it unfortunately keeps itself right out of his grasp, too foggy to make sense.

None of this makes sense.

Castiel is awakened by what he swears could be a lingering kiss on his lips but when he opens his eyes, he’s on the couch, alone. There’s no sight of Mr. Winchester in the room, there isn’t even a trace that he’d been in there last night at all.

Right as Cas is about to walk into the living area, Dean turns the corner and sees him. “Morning” the man huffs a little breathlessly. Whether because he looks to be in a hurry, or whether he was startled by Castiel, there was no telling.

“Do you have to leave?”

Wow, that came out so much more needy and desperate than Cas was intending it to, so he brings his eyes up quickly in a nervous reflex of at least trying to anticipate Dean’s possible response. What he finds is a look of uncertainty and hesitance.

“Yeah.” Dean nods once, then looks to have decided. He walks forward, closing the distance between them until he can straighten up Cas’ t-shirt before looking up into his eyes, then back down, right at his lips. The innuendo alone confirms something; it hadn’t been a dream.

Or maybe it had been, in a different sense of the word, because he can almost feel Mr. Winchester’s lips on his when he’s abruptly pushed away and their bodies go back to being separated. This wasn’t a light switch being flicked, this was lightning striking at full speed.

“I have to get to work, Novak,” Dean snaps, “and tomorrow? I expect you to be there. Eight a.m. sharp.”

And just like that, whatever had happened between them the previous night no longer existed.

~

Things _changed_ in the weeks that followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : Where the river ends - OTEP  
> * Chapter 20 : Light up - Isak Danielson  
> * Chapter 21 : Corbeau blanc - Julien Doré  
> * Chapter 22 : ...


	22. Damn your eyes for getting my hopes up high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'damn your eyes' - Beth Hart  
> "Damn your eyes for getting my hopes up high"

“But- he’s your family. How can he treat you like this?”

She shrugs and partially dismisses his comment as she goes right back to folding the clean laundry. “He’s just, how you say? Estúpido.”

“Stupid?”

“Yes, stupid. Stupid boy sometimes. Always so angry, argh.”

Castiel doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. “He hit you.”

“Only one time. When he a young boy, I hit him. La chancla, you know?”

He doesn’t know but that’s not the important part here.

“You’ve known him that long?”

“Yes,” Paula sighs as she puts the clothes away and takes a seat next to Castiel, “I work for Winchesters, long time. Adam? Just little baby.” That makes her laugh, undoubtedly bringing back fond memories no longer part of her life. “When he meet Isabella, my daughter, they fall in love, together all the time. Already married for five years now.”

Castiel smiles too. “Do they live nearby?”

That visibly makes her sad as she explains that, “no, they move to Espagña. But visit every year!”

Mr. Winchester had never even mentioned a younger brother, and somehow left out the whole part where Paula is said brother’s mother in law. She’s family yet he sometimes treats her worse than he does his own staff. Castiel feels ashamed all of a sudden.

Not even a full twelve hours ago was he kissing an abuser and- longing for more. What was he thinking? He can live with his own mistakes, no matter how painful those might turn out for him, but there’s something more here, he isn’t the only person affected by this.

Fuck, how many people have fallen victim to Dean Winchester already?

“What happened?” Cas finally manages to ask after a few minutes of silence. “I mean, they must have been regular kids once, right?”

Besides nodding absentmindedly, Paula doesn’t seem as if she’s going to answer that question and Castiel begins to feel as if he’ll never know. But then she scoots a bit closer, hushing her voice even though they’re the only ones home, and whispers “el diablo”.

~

Fingertips still burn heavy on his skin when he gets himself to move again, Dean’s perfume following him around like a constant reminder of their antics the previous night and it makes his eyes water.

What was he thinking? His mind is clear about one thing though: it was a moment of weakness and vulnerability but Cas thought he was stronger than that. He’s known for a while now, years in fact, that he craves comfort, someone to hold him and tell him it’s going to be alright. How he fell right into the scheme of believing that person is Dean, was a mystery to him.

He cries. Not out of sadness but out of anger. It had been what? Three, four months already? All this time, it’s been a constant cat and mouse game with Dean’s power being the feline and Castiel’s emotions being the scared rodent, so he feels like he should have known better.

It doesn’t make a difference in the end because Mr. Winchester still played him and he’s still left hurting while the man in question probably doesn’t feel a single shred of remorse.

So, here he is; watching his own tears drip into the cold coffee as he tries to let the scented drink clear his mind from remembering how it felt to consume lips almost seeming hungry for him. It hadn’t been the first time their skin had been pushed against each other in a wave of everything hot and heavy, but last night, Dean hadn’t forcefully taken him. It had been sweet, leaving Castiel feeling secure rather than petrified.

He shrugs it off, has to, and goes on to pretend he doesn’t notice how his hands tremble when they pick up the gold-rimmed porcelain mug, even the coffee inside moves around in controlled splashes. At least all the liquid does now is stain his skin, no longer burning it.

~ 

The meetings, the buzzing workspace, nothing seems to have changed in the weeks Castiel was gone, every employee still strutting through those hallways thinking they mean anything- to Mr. Winchester, that is- while in fact, that man couldn’t care less about them.

But what do they know, right? The same boss they drool over and worship, has more blood on his hands than the murderers they read about in the papers and fear. They’re oblivious to what goes on in Mr. Winchester’s private life, to what he does to Castiel when no one’s watching.

Returning to the company came with another theater worthy act of ‘everything’s fine, life’s peachy, my husband is an angel’ and Castiel knew. He hadn’t needed to be told.

“Get him ready” was all Dean had said before two men and a woman got to work. They took Cas to one of the six upstairs bedrooms, the one with an en suite bathroom and what looked like an adjacent spa area. These people however, were kind to him. If they were cringing at the split ends in his hair, or the dehydrated skin that could use some loving, they certainly weren’t showing it, much less commenting on it

“It’s my turn now,” the woman announces with a smile and then gives Cas a once over, “much better” she adds in regards to his fresh haircut. He takes her word for it, not really having the energy to face whatever might stare back at him if he’d actually look into one of the ridiculously big mirrors accentuating the marble sinks below them. Avoiding reality and all that.

He’d been surprised at the kindness at first, wondering how in the Hell such nice people ended up being a part of Mr. Winchester’s staff. Ten seconds in, he noticed it: the logo on their all-black outfits, telling him that this was an outside business, probably only hired for this specific occasion. Too bad, really, he was rather enjoying the gentle attention and pampering for once.

The woman introduces herself as Melissa while she’s already guiding him towards a massage table, her arm behind his back but not touching him, she even waits for Cas to make the first move in removing his bathrobe before she calmly extends her hands to take it from him and neatly hang the silk to avoid crinkling it.

Castiel notices, he can see her eyes shift over his body but she’s turned around and averted her gaze again in a split second, now rummaging through the large bag she brought with her. “I’m sorry to ask, but I’d like to select the best products for your, sir. How long ago did that injury occur?”

“About two months ago” Cas answers truthfully. The fingertips vaguely gliding over the faint scars on his chest remind him of how tender the skin still is in some places, it reminds him why he now drinks his coffee cold.

No further questions are asked, Melissa simply does exactly as she said she would: select beauty products yet Cas doesn’t know whether he should be relieved or anxious. These people are professionals, they’re trained to always be polite and keep comments to themselves, so what if she doesn’t believe him? What if she’s suspicious and starts interrogating him? What if-

But when she faces him again, her face is still as warm as it had been the past hour and some of the tension fades away.

“Those look like they hurt” she eventually winks, pointing the lotion in her hand at Cas’ bruised torso while walking past him on her way to the table, “you can go right up, sir, face down.”

It wasn’t a question, he knows that, but rather a light hearted comment for the sake of friendly conversation but he somehow feels the need to explain himself nonetheless, and to prove the point that didn’t need to be proven in the first place, he settles himself on the table without wincing.

He goes with “Muay Thai, combat sport”, and leaves out the part where he can still feel Mr. Winchester’s boots from where they made contact with his ribs. Purple strokes might have turned into soft yellow clouds, the memories still remain a dark red.

It takes a while, but Castiel slowly settles into the soothing touches running up and down his back, up and down, up and- he only opens his again when Melissa pats the back of his thigh, “you can turn over now, sir”.

“Oh- I’m so sorry, miss,” Cas mumbles as he does what she asked, “I must have dozed off.”

This genuinely makes her giggle, giving him another one of those sweet smiles that make you feel all cozy inside and she responds with; “no need to apologize, it means I’m doing my job well”. Cas couldn’t agree more. If he tries hard enough, even the faint sweat on his forehead from his recent cravings for certain _substances_ , blends with the subtle steam in the room, disappearing within.

Melissa ignores it all. She ignores the scars, the bruises, even the marks on his arms- still there years after they’d been punctured by needles over and over again- are equally treated, no part of him left abused. It’s almost as if she spoils him just _because_ his body has been deprived of it for so long.

He’s distantly happy this isn’t an all-nude experience and that she let him keep his boxers on, not only due to the fact Dean would probably kill anyone touching Cas without him knowing about it, but also because he’s fairly certain there’s still some handprints carved into the flesh of his ass and he’s just not ready to face those truths yet.

Two hours of being treated like royalty had left him feeling a whole lot better than he did this morning, not even Dean giving him an unimpressed look upon descending the stairs had affected him.

He has to do this,

And he will do so alone.

~

Her face is sad, yet cautious as she looks at Castiel and then beyond him, scanning the room to once again make sure no other staff members have entered the house in the meantime. What was she on about?

“El diablo? As in, the devil?” It must be a saying and though Castiel was able to translate what she’d said with his limited Spanish vocabulary, he still wasn’t any closer to getting a glimpse at the riddle that is Dean Winchester, so he looks at Paula questioningly, trying to hold her gaze but she eventually looks away and stands up.

“I grew up poor,” Paula continues softly, “in a favela. Guns, killing, violence, I know all. But lot of the time, they’re scared little men, they want to look mean and they protect family. Dean- Dean is different. So angry all the time, but once? Sweet kid.”

“Not anymore.”

“No, not anymore. El diablo- evil, evil in his eyes sometimes.”

Castiel doesn’t know how to feel, or what to think. He somehow senses pity for Mr. Winchester because, though it sounds logical, it had never occurred to him that even this man must have been an innocent child at one time. Which brings him to a different dilemma; clearly, Dean is no longer that child. What happened between that point and taking his first life? Between taking his first life and becoming the cruel person he is today?

“What happened?” Cas asks Paula once more in a last attempt at answers but she hears it before he does. Someone is unlocking the front door so she immediately straightens out her blouse, makes sure her hair is still neat, and comes over to the table to pick up some dirty dishes.

Right as footsteps start echoing down the hallway, there’s a firm hand squeezing Castiel’s arm and Paula pulls him closer urgently. Her breath is quick against his cheek, fingers now digging into his muscles, a clear tremble in her voice as she whispers;

“His weakness- es el niño, _Ben_. »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : Where the river ends - OTEP  
> * Chapter 20 : Light up - Isak Danielson  
> * Chapter 21 : Corbeau blanc - Julien Doré  
> * Chapter 22 : Damn your eyes - Beth Hart  
> * Chapter 23 : ...


	23. Why do you sing Hallelujah if it means nothing to you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'delicate' - Damien Rice 
> 
> "We might make out when nobody's there  
> It's not that we're scared  
> It's just that it's delicate
> 
> So why do you fill my sorrow  
> With the words you've borrowed  
> From the only place you've know  
> And why do you sing Hallelujah  
> If it means nothing to you"

“You know the drill, Novak.”

“Coffee?”

“Yes, obviously.”

At least not much seems to have changed between them since their _physical encounter_. Castiel finds it to be both a blessing and a curse because it does facilitate coming back to work, they can just slip right into the previous flow and pick up where they'd left off, but on the other hand it does sting.

For the first time, a verbal outburst from Dean had actually been welcome, anything to have the man at least acknowledge the fact something happened between them that night that was more than a spur of the moment, lust induced, craving kind of connection.

But there had been nothing but radio silence ever since. Dean turned into his distant self and became the man Castiel met a few months ago; Mr. Winchester, CEO and straight up dick.

“Hey, Anna.”

“Mr. Novak! Glad to have you back.”

“Yeah, it’s good to be back” he lies.

“The usual?”

“Yes, please.”

Anna chats him up while making the standard cups of coffee for Cas and Dean. She asks him about his trip, about the places he’s visited in particular, and throws in some compliments about Cas’s tan but no comments are made about the bags under his eyes, nor about the weight loss. She simply quietly pushes a donut in his direction. “On the house.”

He used to despise fake people, still does, yet he’s now become one himself. Perhaps not voluntarily but Cas is still made to blend in with the crowd. The neat haircut, the new suit.. Castiel knows none of that was offered because Mr. Winchester wanted to spoil him, no, they were pieces of a puzzle called ‘covering up one of the biggest schemes in history’, much like the make-up put on him was meant to cover up his pale skin and replace it with a cosmetic blush as to not raise suspicion.

As far as anyone’s concerned, Mr. Novak enjoyed his sweet time off with cocktails and beach parties while regular employees worked day and night to make it possible, undoubtedly feeling quite envious and only being polite for their own sake but who cares, right?

“I didn’t ask for a donut.”

“No, I know. Anna gave it to me.”

Dean almost throws a bitch-fit. “Good for you” he says sarcastically, “why don’t you eat it then?”

“I just thought-“

“What? That you’d give it to me?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to make me fat? Is that it?”

Jesus Christ, Castiel’s day is already going to shit and it’s only eight-thirty in the morning. He didn’t feel like eating sweets this early because he’s been waking up nauseous for a while now and today hadn’t been any different, end of story, he honestly couldn’t give two fucks about Dean’s weight.

“Novak?! Answer me.”

“No! No, I- never mind. I’ll just toss it in the trash.”

“Excuse me? That’s my company’s money you’d be throwing away. You know what?” Mr. Winchester squints at him. “Your lack of respect is baffling. You’re gonna eat the fricking donut, you understand me?”

“I- I feel sick.”

“Huh. That’s what you get for being a druggie. Eat the donut or I’ll shove it down your throat myself. Maybe if you’d eat properly you’d at least not _look_ like an addict, too.”

“You know what?!” but Cas stops himself the second he receives that signature death stare, making the wise decision of shutting his mouth and getting through another day of receiving crap, ‘cause that’s what he’s supposed to do.

Luckily for him, Mr. Winchester actually puts him to work for once, having him collect files from employees, getting documents scanned and printed, fetching lunch. It gives Castiel something to do beside letting his anxiety eat at him so he’s got to admit he feels strangely grateful, even if his day goes without a single ‘thank you’ or ‘please’.

“Hey, uh. Go get me my car, will you? I wanna take her for a spin after work.”

“You want me to drive it here?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous. My chauffeur will do it, I just want you to go with him, get you out of my face for a while.”

_Wow, don’t sugarcoat it._

But Mr. Winchester is right. Castiel, too, feels it; how antsy they get around one another so every opportunity for some fresh air is a God given gift. No one wants the potential bomb to go off.

“Yeah, okay. I get it.” And off he goes to go sit in the back of a car in silence for the next forty-five minutes because Mr. Winchester’s driver isn’t exactly the chatty type and conversations simply don’t flourish. Believe him, Cas has tried.

The car in question is a beautiful old-timer in peak condition, “a Chevrolet Impala,” Cas is informed by a staff member who seems specifically in charge of the garage and the cars within, “1967”. Despite having second to no knowledge on cars, Castiel can appreciate this one’s elegance which stands in strong contrast with the modern Porsche and Jaguar next to it.

Those sports cars are made to impress, owned for pleasure and boasting. However, the Impala is something special to Mr. Winchester, the sole topic of conversation when it’s one of those nights where the CEO drinks a little too much. It’s evident how well this car is maintained and judging by how it stands out from all of the others: Dean’s own handiwork. Yeah, no wonder the guy seemed so offended when Cas asked if he would be the one driving it.

The keys are handed over from one suit to another but apparently, one does not nonchalantly get into one of these million dollar cars without a process beforehand. Castiel’s pants and jacket are checked for potential buttons or zippers that could scratch up the leather, and he receives a clean pair of shoes only to be worn inside of the vehicle. The driver, of course, strictly goes about his business while wearing white designer gloves.

“Did Mr. Winchester request a specific address, sir?”

“Uhm, no. He just said he wanted to drive around after work.”

“Very well, sir.”

He does feel kind of ridiculous sitting in the backseat like a child, stupid protocols.

“So, uh, we’re going back to Winchester Co. then?”

“Yes, unless there was somewhere else you wanted to go first, sir?”

 _Interesting_ …

“Can we keep this between us?”

Castiel’s heart is racing in his chest just thinking about it but he needs to play this cool or it can go sideways real quick. “I’d like to surprise Dean” he hastily adds before their driver starts asking questions but the old man seems completely unbothered as he calmly makes his way through traffic, still going with the polite ‘yes sir’, no sir, of course sir’-s. _‘Well that was easy’_ Castiel thinks.

~

Hours and hours of research and all Castiel got was a big fat nothing. Not a single mention of any kids named ‘Ben’, let alone helpful information on what in the hell Paula had been talking about. She wouldn’t discuss it anymore, no matter how sweetly Castiel asked her about it, so he was on his own on this. His days scanning the internet brought him to empty answers time after time to such an extend he actually started questioning whether he even heard her right or if it had been a fickle of his imagination.

‘Frustrating’ didn’t even begin to cover it. Just when he thought he finally got some insight into Dean Winchester’s life, into what makes the man tick, it only lead him into more confusion than where he’d started and it began to have a noticeable impact on him.

It got so bad one night Castiel snuck out of his room, quiet like a kid on Christmas morning and with just as much jitteriness, if not more, all to find himself in that same study where they had been tangled in each other’s arms with their lips wetly pressed together.

He suddenly didn’t only want to wash away the tremble in his hands that had been building up for weeks now, but also the taste somehow still lingering on his tongue. Violent, burning liquor sounding a whole lot better than lust and possession not yet forgotten.

It wasn’t impulsive either, Castiel had been craving _things_ ever since that innocent man’s blood had pooled around his feet. He caught himself eyeing every gulp of alcohol Dean consumed, found his mind wondering which cabinets might contain pills, even considered if any employees at Winchester Co. were the kind with access to certain substances, and he hated it.

Hated it because he knew that was a very, _very_ bad sign and a clear indication his years of being clean got caught in the line of fire created by temptation. Relapsing would be about the worst thing that could possibly happen right now yet as he stares at the glass in his hands, Cas can’t find a solid reason not to drink its contents within.

“What the hell are you doing, Novak?”

His drink nearly falls, caught right before it smashes to pieces on the wooden desk, having Cas turn around in a split second, suddenly becoming aware of how badly his hands are shaking when Mr. Winchester gives him a once over.

The shouting never comes. Instead, Dean walks over quietly once he realizes what is going on, he then gently takes the glass out of Cas’ hands and puts it away, out of reach. ”Did you drink any?”

Dean remains quiet for a moment after seeing Cas shake his head but then steps closer again, still no words yet his eyes are filled with emotions. And then comes the blow. Literally.

He smacks Castiel right across the face in one smooth outburst, hand lowered immediately afterwards. It wasn’t meant to hurt, not really, or the damage would have been greater than a slightly stinging cheek and some reddened skin. This wasn’t meant to punish.

“Come to bed,” Dean says eventually, “my bed.”

“I’m sorry, I’m.. I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you don’t know. Your head’s not where it’s supposed to be at and I don’t trust you. You’re sleeping with me tonight, end of discussion.”

A tear falls down. “I don’t want to have sex” Cas says as he wipes it from his chin.

“It’s three in the morning, no one’s having sex, Novak. Relax.”

Castiel struggles to fall back asleep,

Until Dean rolls over and pulls him close.

~

The driver doesn’t question Castiel’s request, doesn’t question anything in fact, he simply does as he’s asked and patiently waits in the car while Cas goes about his business.

It doesn’t take Castiel long to find Donna because her cheery voice greeted him as soon as he walked through the door, leading him straight to her. The place carries a cozy atmosphere with cops -both retired and those still on the corps- catching up and undoubtedly reminiscing about calls they went on together, though none are in uniform.

And that’s not a coincidence. Castiel might not have found any useful information on this ‘Ben’ person, he did find out this week was the station’s annual retreat when looking for Donna’s phone number. He wasn’t going to walk straight into a police station while under the watchful eye of Mr. Winchester's numerous staff members, that would be signing his own death sentence, guaranteed.

Here, he’s safe from suspicion but that doesn’t mean he’s got time to waste for he’s not going to push his luck either. “Donna, hi” he greets and excuses himself as he pulls her to the side. She immediately goes into an overjoyed state, asking Cas a million questions, powdered sugar still coating her fingers and mouth.

“Listen, I can’t stay that long unfortunately. There’s someth- yes, we should indeed go out for drinks soon, we’ll find a date. But there’s something I’d like to ask you, a favor.

I need information on someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : Where the river ends - OTEP  
> * Chapter 20 : Light up - Isak Danielson  
> * Chapter 21 : Corbeau blanc - Julien Doré  
> * Chapter 22 : Damn your eyes - Beth Hart  
> * Chapter 23 : Delicate - Damien Rice  
> * Chapter 24 : ...


	24. Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'way down we go' - Kaleo 
> 
> Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?

Castiel was exhausted. And hungry. But mostly exhausted.

It had been another one of those late nights, with Mr. Winchester still tapping away behind his computer long after all employees except security had returned home to their families. There was a reason for it, too.

Once the building’s lights were dimmed and the hallways quieted down, that’s when Winchester International Co. turned from your average multi-million dollar company into a safe haven for everything cruel, wicked and illegal, no eavesdropping or interruption to be expected.

Mr. Winchester could spend hours screaming into his phone as he walked around the office slamming doors and even smashing mugs to bits and pieces without a care in the world because no one was there to hear anyway. It was the perfect hideaway. A not-so-secret secret lair for a villain, one might say.

‘But why not go to the house?’ Castiel used to wonder. Not only because he longed to return home to some peace and quiet after another excruciating day, but also because he couldn’t simply pretend none of the suspicious activities weren’t happening right there under his nose either.

Dean never outright told him “keep your shit out of my shit”, he didn’t need to, the constant threats on Castiel’s life said more than enough and besides, Cas was a clever guy, not only book smart but street smart as well. That’s exactly why he did the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do.

~

“Yeah, I know but.. are you sure? This is some serious stuff, Castiel.” She takes a deep breath after the prolonged silence gives her the answer and then continues in a hushed voice. “Alright, so. Good news? I managed to find a file on him, that at least tells us there _is_ one and he has a tangible paper trail. But then of course, with all the modern technology and the-“

“Donna?” Cas interrupts her urgently, “and the bad news?”

There’s another deep breath echoing through strings pulled too tightly, one wrong move and the pressure might make them snap, Castiel along with them.

“His files are protected.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I can’t access them without approval of a lawyer.”

“ _Fuck_ …” and the strings become unraveled.

Castiel instantly realizes his mistake of holding out so much hope for something that was quite intangible to begin with. He’d been so desperate to get out of this mess that he clung to anything thrown at him, like a hungry dog might do with a bone.

Going up against Mr. Winchester was a battle he couldn’t win but when Paula breathed some new air into his lungs by telling him the man’s one weakness, Castiel had felt that vaguely familiar surge of energy pushing into his veins hit by hit, and for the first time in months; he felt indestructible.

“I’m really sorry I’m not able to give you more.”

“It’s alright, Donna. I should have known-“ _‘better than to believe I’d be able to get possibly sensitive information on one of the most protected people in America just like that.’_

There’s another bout of silence between them and Castiel can clearly picture her apologetic smile in his head. At least over the phone she doesn’t get to see the tears running down his cold cheeks.

Donna ends up breaking the heaviness between them first by whispering something to him, telling Cas she’d like to ask him something, to be precise. “Listen, this might sound weird but I need to know. Are you in any danger, Castiel?”

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!_ His heart feels like it’s about to stop, or maybe it has already, he can’t really feel it anymore. She’s getting too close. Too involved. Does she knows something he doesn’t?

“Are you safe, Cas? You can tell me. You _have_ to tell me.”

He considers it.

It’s a split second, just a brief moment of _‘what if?’_ but he considers it. He considers telling her everything down to the last gruesome detail through the sobs and the tears and the humiliation, even if he has to beg for it, even if it would mean life long under witness protection, he doesn’t care, Castiel just wants to go _home_.

It’s too much.

The world around him appears deafeningly quiet, the phone booth’s walls seem to make up his entire existence and not stretch any further into the universe, but the cars speeding by right at the edge of his vision yank him down as if he’s some wave pulled back and forth by the moon.

There’s lights flashing into his eyes, truck horns assaulting him, the sound of his own blood’s panicked motions, there’s voices, footsteps, pounding, everything at once.

And then there’s nothing at all.

“Castiel? Cas-“

He hangs up.

~

“Sir?”

Cas turns around upon hearing the voice, trying to hide how startled he was by someone calling out to him in the empty hallway. It’s Benny, Dean’s personal bodyguard.

“Sir, Mr. Winchester has informed me he’d like you to be brought home. He’ll be late tonight.”

That’s a first. Unless something comes up, Cas goes home when Dean does, that’s the rule, but honestly? He can’t be bothered to ask ‘why’, it’s already past ten p.m. and the thought of having some alone time at the mansion did sound inviting, even if ‘alone time’ meant having security a heartbeat away at any given moment. “Alright. Thank you.”

Benny nods politely -he’s one of the friendlier guys- and then per protocol explains who will be driving Cas, which car they’ll be taking, and who will accompany him, as if he cares. But beside the boring talk, no conversation is initiated, leaving the two of them to ride the elevator in dead silence yet Castiel doesn’t feel uncomfortable. This is one of those moments where he’s ashamed to admit he enjoys the privilege of being Mr. Winchester’s ‘husband’ sometimes: he doesn’t owe these people anything, especially not small talk when all he wants to do is curl up and wallow in defeat.

The car’s rumble could have lulled him to sleep but they arrive before he can truly drift off, the driver already wishing him a good night and closing the door behind him when Cas’ mind is still as foggy as it had been all afternoon, barely mumbling out a response in time.

Even the most mundane of tasks felt so incredibly difficult tonight and his auto-pilot was failing him, having Castiel filling a glass with water from the sink instead of going on a hunt for bottled water. Grabbing one of the pre-made sandwiches out of the fridge had been enough of an adventure.

“Jesus! Go away. Shoo!” But that damned dog wasn’t going anywhere, especially not now that there was food on the table and for every inch Cas moved his body away in terror, Teddy took that as a sign to get even closer until his wet nose was right there on the table.

Living with the dog had been hard. Having Mr. Winchester make fun of his fear for large canines? Even harder. Every time Teddy as much as paddled into a room with his overly big paws, the scar on Castiel’s cheek tingled uncomfortably, reminding him of what can happen if he’s not careful.

He’d done his research, you know? Anything to understand dogs a little better. Not because he was ready to get over his phobia, but to avoid a repeat of getting bitten in the damn face for getting too close to the dog’s bowl. ‘Food aggression’ the site told him.

It also told him Dogo Argentinos are one of the breeds with the strongest bite force. Just his luck.

“Please- please leave me alone!”

His cries are enough to have a guard rush into the room, hand on her holster. “Sir?” she asks, alert, “everything alright?” Castiel is too dumbfounded to see a female in such a position of power within the Winchester household that he completely forgets to answer her question. Only when the dog pushes up against him to get his attention again and beg for food, does Castiel let out a surprised yelp, followed by him desperately trying to chase it away.

He hears chuckling behind him. Great, another person making fun of him, though the mean comments never come. She simply walks over to the fridge and rummages through it before approaching them and actually winking at Cas. “He just wants something, too. Here, look.”

To his surprise, she takes a slice of charcuterie from the package, asks the dog to sit (which it does), and gently feeds him some meat without any incidents.

“What’s his name?”

“Uhm. Ted- Teddy.”

“What a good boy you’ve got.”

 _Debatable_. He thinks.

“I’m sorry but, are you new here, ma’am?”

She smiles and frowns at him as she sticks out her hand. “Yes. The name’s Ellen. Harvelle. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. But you can just call me Ellen.”

It’s been a weird fucking day. At least Teddy follows her when she leaves the room.

But he might have cheered too soon. Not even half an hour later does Ellen return, this time holding a phone which she hands over, explaining the call is for him.

~

_No, no, no, no, no._

_Oh, this is bad._

Outside his previous house are two cop cars, there’s one officer at the door while another one walks towards him as soon as he turns the engine off. “Castiel Novak?” he’s asked immediately.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

No explanation, only being lead into the house accompanied by two men in uniforms, Mr. Winchester’s private security left on the curb. Castiel hasn’t been home in so long it almost feels like walking into a stranger’s living room when they enter, like meeting up with an old flame.

The officers both carry serious, stark expressions. It makes him squirm. They act as if they’re about to tell a six year old their goldfish died. Wait.

“Did- did someone pass away?” He barely dares to ask. “Gabriel? Is he..?”

“We’re not here to announce a death, sir. We’re here for you.” They exchange a quick look, one Castiel can’t make out. He didn’t do anything wrong, did he? “We were informed by a concerned someone that you might be in danger. The person in question feared for your safety and after they were unable to reach you, we were called.”

_Donna.._

_Fuck. A million times fuck._

Of course she wouldn’t be able to reach him, the first and only time he’d called her was today, on a payphone no less, and then he hung up on her after basically avoiding her questions about the people he was potentially involved with.

He should have known this was a mistake from the beginning.

“Oh, uh. I’m- I’m fine” he stutters, “I promise you, I’m okay.”

“Sir, we have to make sure.”

“No, yeah, yeah, I swear. The concern, it’s- it’s very, uhm, I appreciate it. But I’m fine.”

“Okay. Could you-“

A big commotion interrupts them in the middle of whatever the fuck was going on. It gave Castiel a moment to breathe. He was relieved for a blissful few seconds until a third officer comes barging into the room which instantly makes the others stand up and wonder what was wrong.

“There’s a guy outside threatening to enter the house, he’s got his own armed guards.”

They don’t let Castiel through at first. He’s pushed behind a cop instead and all men involved have got their guns up in defense already. All but one. “Woah, woah, woah,” the guy barks, “do you know who I am?”

Castiel doesn’t need to see the person to recognize the voice it belongs to.

“I’m Dean fucking Winchester.”

“ _Winchester?_ ”

“Yes” he nearly growls.

The officers lower their guns at once.

“We’re sorry, sir” one grits out, “there must have been a misunderstanding. We’ll be on our way.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

_A devil with police on his payroll._

_Mephistophelian._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : Where the river ends - OTEP  
> * Chapter 20 : Light up - Isak Danielson  
> * Chapter 21 : Corbeau blanc - Julien Doré  
> * Chapter 22 : Damn your eyes - Beth Hart  
> * Chapter 23 : Delicate - Damien Rice  
> * Chapter 24 : Way down we go - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 25 : ...


	25. I'm a prisoner here, they'll never let me leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'Prisoner' - Raphael Lake 
> 
> "I'm a prisoner here, come get me, set me free."

“I’m Cassius, and I’m an addict.”

“Hi, Cassius” the group of unknown faces echoes.

~

“We’re sorry, sir. There must have been a misunderstanding. We’ll be on our way.”

Dean watches the officers go as he holds a trembling Castiel tightly pressed against himself, he watches them closely, watches them until they’re out of sight before dropping his smile and stopping his fingers from digging into rigid flesh.

“What the hell did you do?!”

But Castiel is just standing there, white with shock and unable to answer. It’s all too surreal. The flashing blues and reds haven’t fully left his vision yet, let alone the fear still running through his veins, and Dean is already going off. Of course the guy would be angry; any run-in with law enforcement is a huge risk. On top of that, Castiel knows exactly what this looks like.

It looks as if _he_ was the one that called the cops.

Harsh fingers returning to his arm make him focus his eyes. “What did you do?” Dean growls.

The anger he expected. But the fear? That was a rarity, though in that moment, as he looks up, straight into the face of the person who dragged him into this mess in the first place, it lay clear as day: fear. Raw, panicked, and present in abundance like no other emotion had ever shown itself within the cold, _cold_ , Dean Winchester.

“I didn’t- I didn’t do anything.”

 _Breathe Castiel_ he tells himself. The stuttering gasp that comes out instead will have to do. That way, at least he knows he’s actually breathing through his own fear as necessary because if there’s one thing more dangerous than an angry beast, it’s a scared one.

“I swear! You have to believe me, please. I didn’t call them!”

“You’re a lying piece of shit, Castiel! I gave you everything! A home, a job, a second chance and this is how you repay me? By trying to throw it all away?!”

Mr. Winchester takes a step back after his outburst in order to put some space between them, Cas reckons. After all, they’re still in a quiet neighborhood with curious onlookers just one door away and strangling your fake husband in public probably isn’t very good for your image.

Dean can never know about the true nature of the police’s visit. Not now, not ever, so Castiel walks back to his old house, pulls the front-door shut and then makes his way over to the driveway again to face what has to be done. “Neighbors got concerned be-“

“What business is it of theirs?! They-”

“Will you let me speak?!” Castiel snaps. Surprisingly, Dean does. “Neighbors got concerned because they hadn’t seen me in a long while and I wasn’t answering so they called the cops. End of story.”

Castiel hopes it’s over now. That Dean believes him and that they can go home, go back to ignoring each other and pretend this never happened but when he dares look up again, Mr. Winchester is still utterly pissed, nodding in disbelief with an agitated grin on his lips.

“You know how I know you’re lying, Mr. Novak?” he asks after a tense few seconds. “You claim these people, these neighbors, called the cops because they were _worried_? _Concerned_?”

Dean says those words as though they were venom on his tongue before taking in a deep breath and continuing. “You see, that’s where you made a mistake. People don’t care about you. Now tell me, Cassie, would people call the cops out of concern for someone they don’t give two fucks about? Hmm?”

It’s not the insults that make him cry, he’s learned to take those with a grain of salt anyway, nor is it the painful grip on his arm, but rather fading adrenaline mixed with a rush of realization that this is his life now. Months of being away from home and not a single neighbor actually checked up on him.

Not Louise whom he brought flowers and cake to after her husband died, not Patrick and Shaun whom he mowed the lawn for on a regular basis, not even the Dixon family missed their babysitter in need. No one missed him, just as Mr. Winchester had made clear during one of their very first days together.

“Let’s go home.” Cas eventually begs, trying to get himself out of Dean’s hands but failing.

Dean wasn’t finished, though, he instead shoves Castiel against the car and shakes him violently while once again asking about the truth after putting a firm reminder in place that he still calls the shots and not Cas.

“I told you! The neighbors-“

“Fine!” Dean screams, “don’t tell me. But I will find out eventually. I always do.”

Before the anger can further drive them apart, Cas suddenly pulls Dean a little closer. “Hug me” he whispers almost frantically and wastes no time in waiting for an answer as he brings their bodies together. “What-“

But a new voice cuts through Dean’s confusion.

“Are you boys alright?”

When they pull apart and turn around, an older woman is standing near the end of the driveway, just a few feet away from them. “I don’t mean to pry or anything, but I saw the cops and, you know.”

“Oh, no! Everything's fine, ma’am!” Dean says.

Castiel is absolutely taken aback by how quickly this man can go from riled up to that classic act of ‘public appearance and human relations are key’. Even Dean’s face has gone all soft as he talks to the woman along with his voice, now speaking calmly and reassuringly.

“Okay,” she nods, “I was just worried.” Her answer sounds as if she’s not entirely convinced, probably wanting to know more about why exactly there was an entire ruckus out in the street. Pray to God she didn’t see the guns. But the lady does seem to know her place; turning away slightly and seconds from going back home, until she sees Castiel’s face clearly.

“Oh, what’s with the tears, young man?” she downright coos.

Cas is quick to divert the situation though, briefly explaining about his empty house, the shock of having police show up, etcetera. He even smiles at Dean when the latter gently takes his hand in emphasis of the play-pretend.

“Hug me again” Cas says the minute she’s wished them a good night and is walking away.

This time, Mr. Winchester doesn’t question it, he simply pulls Castiel close to him without a fight. “Is she gone?” Upon Cas shaking his head at the question, Dean whispers a soft ‘okay’ and then remains still for a while, just breathing slowly as he lets his chest rest against Cas’.

When the second time of asking the same question results in an actual nod, Dean doesn’t fully pull away despite their need for theatre being long expired along with the woman’s presence. He lets his fingers glide over skin turning cold under the evening breeze without a care in the world as if the possibility of someone seeing them has turned from a dangerous something into an unimportant, and perhaps even exciting one. “Alright, let’s go home” he finally agrees.

~

The faces might not be familiar, the whole setting on the other hand is. Everything from the sulky feeling inseparable from sad grey walls, to the hammering in his chest as he stands there, looking a truth in the eye he’d much rather not face. But he has no choice.

There’s sunken in structures, tired eyes, and fidgeting fingers. Arms are being scratched, legs are bouncing. It makes his own body twitch. But there’s also some hopeful gazes looking at him, encouraging him in a silent matter that tell him he’s not alone, so he speaks up.

“I’m Cassius, and I’m an addict.”

He’s spoken the words so many times that they roll off his tongue without much thought, without much meaning left even. Though if it weren’t for the truth hidden in them, he wouldn’t be here, in rehab. Again.

His overdose had proven nearly fatal so after two full weeks in the hospital, he was sent straight to the center he’d been to before much to his own disgust. Feeling his father’s disappointment ooze out of the old man was one thing but having to face staff members who, last time, sent him off with their typical ‘stay clean!’ bullshit was utterly haunting, and on top of that: not really encouraging.

“You’re gonna get clean,” his father had said, “until then, you’re not welcome in my house.”

And that’s one of the last times he’d seen his dad.

Despite getting clean, Castiel enrolled into Law school and went to live on his own. He graduated, started working some jobs, ended up at Wesson Law & Legal, and the rest is history.

~

“What are you-“

But Dean shushes him. After the ride home, each in their own car, the two of them had significantly calmed down. Maybe the hug had helped, too. The hug that'd gone on for just a little longer than strictly necessary. After all, Castiel had made it clear the woman was gone so there had been no reason for them to stay intertwined and pretend they’re a happy couple. Yet Dean had kept Cas right there against him as their breaths fell into a rhythm not defined by time.

“You were pretty shaken up back there, weren’t you?”

Castiel can only nod. Over the past few weeks he’d gotten to see more and more of Dean’s gentler side. The abuse still remained of course, there were endless nights where Cas appeared to be the sole point of interest for the CEO’s anger, and then followed horrid days of disinterested stares and being ignored. But there had also been these… _moments_. Little figments of affection hidden deep inside.

That’s why he isn’t pushing away the hand around his cock.

Dean Winchester was capable of _something_. Not love perhaps, not yet, but feelings at least. Were it how he tries to keep Teddy calm around Cas now, or how he showed such concern after Cas nearly drank alcohol and then made sure to lock up any liquor around the house, or how he’d kissed him, gently, as if he cared about him.

And God forbid, Castiel wants to be taken care of. If only just for tonight. So he swallows thickly as he closes his eyes and gets lost in how good it feels to have warmth surrounding him. He moans, oh he moans so delicately when Dean’s hand becomes a little bit tighter, faster, slicker.

“That’s it, baby, let it out. Let me take care of you.”

And Cas loses it at those words, orgasming in a haze of feelings he’d thought long forgotten. Not even the weight settling on his hips when Mr. Winchester straddles him causes a panic because somehow, Castiel knows tonight is about letting off steam in the form of release, not violence, so he watches, relaxed, as Dean jerks off and comes all over his chest and abdomen with only one name on those lips: “ _Cas_ ”.

“You really didn’t call the cops?”

“No!,” Cas gasps as he sits up from where he’d been resting his head on Dean’s bare chest, “I promise!”

“Alright, love, I believe you. But you have to understand what it looked like.”

“I know! But I swear, I didn’t-“

“Relax,” Dean shushes again, “come here.”

It doesn’t take Cas a moment of hesitation today, he simply lays back down, listening to the low rumble of Dean’s voice when the man speaks up again.

“It looked bad, Cas. We need something to keep the public happy, to not raise suspicion, you know?”

Castiel wishes he didn’t, but he does know, he understands how keeping Mr. Winchester out of the wrong spotlights is a responsibility they both share because if Dean is going down, probably so is he.

“Hey," Dean eventually says, smiling, "we still need to have an actual wedding ceremony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : Where the river ends - OTEP  
> * Chapter 20 : Light up - Isak Danielson  
> * Chapter 21 : Corbeau blanc - Julien Doré  
> * Chapter 22 : Damn your eyes - Beth Hart  
> * Chapter 23 : Delicate - Damien Rice  
> * Chapter 24 : Way down we go - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 25 : Prisoner - Raphael Lake  
> * Chapter 26 : ...


	26. This dragon's got my hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'Suga Boom Boom' - DL Downer  
> "I'm chasing dragons, but this dragon's got my hand."

When Dean walks down his marbled staircase with just that slight hint of extra cockiness to his strut, he’s pleased to see Castiel is coming along, too. They’re putting in the finished touches it seems, three pairs of hands busy with neatly combing back black hair, straightening a dark blue tie, and putting some blush on those pale cheeks.

But even among all the commotion, Castiel still looks at him, eyes tired but bright, clearer than they were over the past few weeks which is a God sent gift. The last thing they need right now is either of them looking anything but pristine at such a public and important event.

He’s also noticed some other changes. Such as the _way_ Mr. Novak now looks at him: with wonder. Some might call it confidence perhaps. Head held high, features nice and composed, body not slacking but not rigid anymore either. It’s a change Dean appreciates for it seems that scared little boy he snatched from the streets is finally fulfilling the role he’d set out for it.

“Ready?” he asks, meaning he’d like staff members to fuck off and leave them alone now. As soon as they leave, Dean can see some of that nervousness he’d gotten to know exceptionally well over the past few months find its way back into the man before him, though, Dean isn’t fazed by it. He knows Castiel will do well tonight and finally present how it’s always been expected of him.

You see, tonight is important.

“Smile,” Dean winks at him, “it is your wedding day after all.”

Well, not entirely because apart from the so called ‘contract' they signed, no legal marriage had been conducted, nor will there ever be. Tonight will simply be a grandiose party, mostly to be enjoyed by their guests (and the media), rather than it being anything with actual meaning to them.

But there’s more to it; plans that are only within Dean’s knowledge and secretive in the strictest of ways. Which is exactly why Cas’ role will be of such importance.

~

Castiel immediately goes quiet when their Rolls Royce pulls up in front of the venue. A reaction Dean had expected yet had not been enough of a reason for him to change any of it. There will be more surprises to come, unpleasant ones maybe but they will keep Castiel on his toes at least. “Is that-“

“The Hilton. Yes.”

It’s the same hotel where Dean and Cas had their falling out, the argument and then the scandal that ultimately led to anything happening afterwards so it brings forth a strange set of sensations. To any outsider, choosing the place where your ‘relationship’ started as your reception venue might seem sweet, romantic in that stomach turning way. But to Castiel, it’s a slap in the face.

Right before their driver opens the door for them, Dean makes sure to remind his _husband_ to smile, to behave. His words accompanied by a painful squeeze to the thigh.

The security at this event is anything unlike Cas has ever seen. There’s barricades, a red carpet, hordes of paparazzi, and of course: bodyguards, almost one for every person attending so it seems and he finds himself wondering why on earth Mr. Winchester had allowed this to be so open. The man must have known this would attract a lot of attention, both wanted and unwanted.

“No, no, no. Look at me.” Dean says as he notices Cas’ eyes drifting off beyond the crowd standing outside. They’re hard to see but the commotion still draws attention, resulting in their intentions becoming quite clear. There’s a handful of protesters right across the street being kept away by police as they yell profanities about homosexuality being a sin.

Or so Castiel guesses because their words are muffled by the shouting surrounding him. People on the other side of the barricades are downright begging for autographs and selfies, and not just from Dean, from him, too. “Come on,” Dean orders, “scribble on some papers, take a few pics and then we can go inside.”

With every new flash in his eyes, Castiel feels more and more like an imposter, giving out ‘thank yous’ after each compliment said to him by complete strangers, knowing their popularity only comes forth from them being a- no, _the_ rich, young, handsome, gay couple in town.

Dean pulls him closer right before the valets can close the doors behind them and turns towards the crowd one last time as he brings Castiel in for a deep kiss for everyone to see. The screams go absolutely wild. Yeah, those pictures will be on the front cover tomorrow.

The ambiance inside is just as buzzing though completely different in its flow, feeling quite warm and welcome once the round of applause announcing their arrival calms down actually. Dean of course is almost instantly dragged away by some of his acquaintances, leaving Castiel to the overwhelming amounts of people all coming up and congratulating him.

It takes him nearly two hours before he can sneak away to go check out the buffet. He was absolutely starving. But right as he’s about to put some bread in his mouth, a soft voice calls out to him. Castiel nearly drops his food when he turns around. “Hannah! Wow, I-“

“It’s been a while, huh?” the woman smiles. Nine years to be exact. Yet Cas had still instantly recognized her. After all, you don’t easily forget someone you shared such intimacy with. “Yeah,” he stutters, “what- what are you doing here?”

“Your husband invited me. Congrats, by the way!”

He wants to get lost in the awkwardness between them, relish in the painful feeling that if it weren’t for his relapse all those years ago, he would have asked her the big question and he wouldn’t be standing here talking to her about a wedding that isn’t theirs.

He forces himself to keep smiling. “Thank you, Hannah. I didn’t know you knew Dean.”

“Oh, I don’t. Well, I mean, I’ve seen him on tv and all but we’ve never actually met.”

Castiel’s blood runs cold. All throughout their small talk and friendly conversation, he can’t do anything but panic about the fact Mr. Winchester even knows about her because despite some of the aspects of Cas’ life being quite public due to his father’s fame, his relationships had always stayed private. Or so he thought.

“Well, enjoy your night, Cassie” Hannah smiles before walking away. But he’s not left alone for long. Dean appears not even a few minutes later and takes his hand to drag him away, to somewhere quiet, Cas thinks, but they don’t stop until they’ve reached the bathrooms at the far end of the building where Dean pulls him inside one of the stalls and locks the door behind them.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Mr. Winchester asks right as he pushes Cas against the wall. He doesn’t wait for any answer, probably didn’t really want one either, as his lips already hungrily close around Castiel’s throat where they kiss and suck with an unparalleled possession. “All these people, they keep telling me,” another kiss, “how good you look, sugar. How good we look _together_.”

“Dean-“

Cas wants to stop the hands running down his chest but his voice fails him, and so does his body. It reacts to the touches it’s getting in ways he can’t control and besides, Dean already seems lost in it, the liquor mixed with perfume suggesting there’s not just pent up sexual frustration at play here but the evening’s excitement as well.

Those lips finally move up and away from Cas’ throat until they come to steal his breath a split second later in a way that make him go limp as he’s turned around, his back now against the stall’s door where he slides down easily. As he looks up at Dean from where he’s been pushed to his knees, he realizes where this is going. “Dean, I-“

“Shh,” the man says while pulling out a semi-hard cock, his free hand coming to rest in Castiel’s hair “don’t ruin our night.” A fight is about the last thing Cas wants right now, he can agree on that, so he swallows and gets ready, but not before asking where Dean knew Hannah from.

The cock comes before the answer. It slides into his wet mouth with ease, tongue instinctively pressing itself along the underside while he does his best to breathe calmly. “Your brother told me about her.” Some fear instantly lets go of Castiel upon hearing those words because of course there had to be a logical explanation to it all. Wait-

“Yeah,” Dean groans between slow thrusts, “Gabriel is here. I’m surprised you’ve not seen him yet. He is quite popular with the ladies, though, I’ll give him that.”

For some reason, the thought of his brother being here, tonight, is such a relief to Castiel that his muscles eventually relax enough to make the blowjob he’s giving less strenuous and let him suck Dean’s cock more easily. He’s feeling quite hot himself, too.

Mr. Winchester’s moans go straight to his own groan, however, Cas keeps his hands to himself and ignores his own pleasure well past the cum dribbling down his mouth and throat, until Dean wipes both of them clean, opens the door, and walks off after a quick make-out session.

The only reason Cas ends up jerking himself off is because he can’t exactly return to their guests with a boner straining in already tight suit pants. When he does enter the lobby again, Dean is nowhere to be found so the search for Gabriel begins again. Just as Mr. Winchester had said: Cas finds his brother surrounded by a group of young women who appear perfectly entertained, until he interrupts them, of course.

Gabriel is clearly drunk, slurring his words a bit as he goes on and on about what a great party this is and how happy he is to finally be involved in the matter, which reminds Castiel of the early lies, what he had been forced to tell his own brother over the phone. It felt so distant now, especially with Gabriel being none the wiser, but then again, that’s what it had all been for, hadn’t it?

Not only tonight’s celebration, piled up efforts from previous months, too. Everything from the secrecy to the illegalities, and from the fights to the feelings. “I’m happy for you, Cassie, really, I am.”

It’s not long before Gabriel is engaged with a new group of admirers, though Castiel doesn’t mind the breathing space and now that he thinks about it, he could really use a drink. Here’s on hoping Mr. Winchester at least thought of some decent array of non-alcoholic beverages.

‘ _Speak of the Devil_ ’ Cas thinks playfully when spotting the CEO in the crowd. But something’s wrong. Something’s seriously wrong. It looks as if Dean had been looking for him, because when their eyes lock, the man quickly walks across the room, running would draw too much attention.

“We have to leave, now.”

No further explanation is given. Judging by the subtle sweat around dark blond hair and the nervous twitch in Dean’s hand, Castiel already knows exactly what this is about. It’s gang-related, meaning: danger. “Where to?” he simply asks through short breaths. Dean is quick to lead the both of them through a hallway, right past the bathrooms where they’d been partaking in dirty deeds not even an hour ago, but there’s no time to think about that. He can’t be thinking about his lips around Dean’s cock. “Stay back!” is the last thing he hears before a bullet whizzes right past his ears.

Castiel wants to run out the door just as Mr. Winchester had done but a bodyguard firmly pulls him away before he has a chance to do so. “No!” he screams, “Dean!”. He can only see blood, and then,

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : Where the river ends - OTEP  
> * Chapter 20 : Light up - Isak Danielson  
> * Chapter 21 : Corbeau blanc - Julien Doré  
> * Chapter 22 : Damn your eyes - Beth Hart  
> * Chapter 23 : Delicate - Damien Rice  
> * Chapter 24 : Way down we go - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 25 : Prisoner - Raphael Lake  
> * Chapter 26 : Suga Boom Boom - DL Downer  
> * Chapter 27 : ...


	27. It's our time to go, but at least we stole the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: 'stole the show' - Parson James 
> 
> "It's our time to go, but at least we stole the show."

Castiel is still kicking and screaming when the bodyguard previously pulling him back spins him around. Castiel isn’t having it. On top of his distress, he now realizes it’s Benny manhandling him. God he wants to punch that man in the face. “Mr. Winchester-“

“Mr. Winchester is fine!” Benny screams back as he once again ushers them to keep moving. “I’ll explain later but right now we have to leave!” It goes without saying Cas is utterly dumbfounded by what he just heard, the tears in his eyes now suddenly feeling out of place yet at the same time, not enough. He has about a million questions, wants nothing more than to demand answers, but as predicted, the car ride is silent and awkward with nothing but a roaring engine between them.

When they do slow down, tires hitting a more uneven road, Castiel doesn’t recognize where they are. It almost looks as if they’re driving through a forest with how thick and unkept the trees are here, barely any light illuminating the path either so they’re definitely far out of any major city and therefore; a long way from home.

It’s a pleasant change when bumps in the path are eventually replaced by smoother gravel, followed by a driveway set in stone which in turn leads up to house at the far end of the property, tucked away by yet another set of overgrown greenery as if it was a secret.

It probably is.

“We’re here, sir. Please remain close and do as our men say until you are safely inside.” They sneak around as if they’re on a special ops mission despite the house literally only being a few feet away but Castiel has to admit that if he’s forced to maneuver in the dark, he’d rather do it with these trained people by his side. If only they’d tell him what the fuck was going on.

Benny stands guard at the door for a moment. Waits. Looks. Waits again. Until one of his men shouts a loud ‘clear!’ from inside before he lets Castiel through. “Please wait here, sir.”

The sight greeting Cas was not a pleasant one. “What’s he doing here?” This is a bad sign, making it evident things might be even more serious than he originally thought.

But this time, Benny doesn’t answer him. The man simply moves forward, his gun still at ready though no longer raised as he goes through every room to double check their safety which leaves Cas alone with the one dude he really didn’t want to see right now.

“Teddy, give me some space!” he begs desperately as the big dog runs around him, to no avail. The animal’s nervousness makes it tremble with excitement. That simple-wired brain does nothing but shortcut, absolutely not hearing a single thing Castiel is asking of it. “Go find daddy!” he tries in his most upbeat voice. Luckily, it works. Teddy runs off in a random direction because though the words are familiar and they usually mean Dean is home, this isn’t, well, _home_.

When screeching tires cut through the unmeasured chaos, his heart starts pounding again within an instant. Of course that damned dog heard them too and is galloping towards the sound at full speed followed by two people in full combat gear. The door slams shut soon after. There’s yelling coming from the hallway followed by a load of cursing and things getting smashed on the floor. In any other instance, that would have scared him, but right now it’s the best sound in the world.

“Dean-“

He can’t even finish before the man in question has him wrapped up in a hug so tight it’s on the verge of hurting him. “I thought you were-“ “I know,” Dean whispers, pulling him impossibly closer, “everything’s okay now.” Them wearing the most expensive suits out of an already priceless collection doesn’t seem to be an obstacle here as Dean lets Castiel cry on his shoulder for however long is needed. In truth, the suits, or one of them at least, had been ruined already. Not by tears, but by bullets.

“I saw you get shot! You- there was blood, everywhere.” And now it’s on him, too. “Fuck, you’re bleeding!” but Castiel’s hands get pried away from where they’re trying to assess the damage to Dean’s body. Mr. Winchester opens the jacket himself, revealing the bulletproof vest underneath. “The blood-?” “Fake,” Dean smiles softly, “it was all fake.”

“But how?”

It takes them a long time to talk it through. About how tensions had been rising between the Brits and the Americans for a while now. A hit was to be expected and Dean was clever enough to know their so called ‘wedding’ would be the perfect opportunity to get one on him so plans were set in motion, they had been for weeks, their event was just the cherry on top.

“Is that why you made it so public?”

The CEO looks almost apologetic when he nods. “We had to lure them out, Cas, I hope you understand. At least this way we knew it was coming and we were prepared.”

Screw emotions right now. Castiel’s mind is overflowing with decisions he should have made a long time ago but he can’t show how distressed he is, he has to keep a calm demeanor or Dean will know something’s up before Cas can even think about step two. That man is like a shark in the water.

“So what now?” he ends up asking.

As soon as Dean stands up to go pour himself another drink, Teddy is right there by the man’s side, ever obedient and cautious. It distantly makes Castiel realize murdering Dean in his own home would be near impossible. Unless you count being mauled to death by a dog while doing so as a victory of course, but that’s not his main issue here. The fact part of the plan had apparently been to bring Mr. Winchester’s beloved pet to the safe house means they’re here to stay for a while, this was no temporary setback to be dealt with overnight, this was serious.

“We lay low.” Dean says upon returning. “Right now, they probably think I’m dead. But we can’t presume they won’t be looking for any of my men, or for me still. And we definitely can’t just waltz back onto the streets without us being spotted and this whole plan going to shit within the span of a few hours. Even you should understand that.”

Castiel grits his teeth. “Do you think they’re watching us?”

“Oh, I know. I know they’re watching us. Not here, this place doesn’t even officially exist, but out there? Hell, yeah. They’ve got people on every corner.”

“Don’t you?”

Mr. Winchester scoffs. “Yes, Castiel, I do. But this time, we’re not the hunters, we’re the hunted.”

~

“Dad’s been asking about you” Gabriel says suddenly. It completely takes Castiel by surprise. He wasn’t even entirely sure the old man was still alive, but then again, if the great Mr. Novak would come to bite the bullet, Castiel is sure he would have read about it in the news. Nonetheless,

“Why is he interested all of a sudden?”

“Cas-“ but his brother takes a pause. They could go into another one of their endless fights but in the end it always came down to the same conclusion: Gabriel gets along just fine with their father, Castiel doesn’t, and that was the end of it. So Gabriel merely sighs before continuing. “He asked how you were doing.”

“Yeah, I bet he’d like to know. Now that I’m supposedly married to a billionaire.”

“It’s not about the money. Look, he still cares about you, Cas- no, he never stopped. I know you two had a.. falling out, but you were a teenager back then. Don’t you think maybe it’s time you lay down your arms?”

Castiel glares at his brother. For once, Gabriel is not sugar coating it and not treating him like a child, exactly as Cas had asked of him countless of times, though now that the truth is out, it hurts. “He fucking kicked me out, Gabe!”

“He wanted you to get better!” Gabriel snaps back at him, suddenly glad they decided to meet up somewhere quiet and not in a full restaurant like last time. “We _all_ wanted you to get better.”

“I was just a child for God’s sake!”

“And he was just a father about to lose his son to drugs!”

It goes dead quiet after that. Never in all those years had it occurred to Castiel that their father’s reasoning had been anything but crude, fueled with nothing but disappointment, yet here they are, a fact being thrown in the argument that critically disrupts the scales and makes everything tumble.

Castiel can only focus on the clouds his breath makes in the cool evening air, shoving his frozen hands just a little deeper into his pockets. Winter sure came early this year. And maybe it’s just him, but it seemed to feel a lot colder than he can remember as well.

“That night,” Gabriel eventually admits quietly, “he cried. Actual tears, because he thought you were gone. It was the first, and _only_ , time I’ve ever seen him cry. It wasn’t a father abandoning his child, it was a father trying to save his son.”

~

They sleep in separate rooms that night. Not exactly the honeymoon Castiel had hoped for but in hindsight, he’s awfully grateful for their distance and is glad for the peace, that is, if you ignore the men posted at his door. At least this way he’s got time to think and it’s not like any aspect of their relationship was normal anyway.

Dean had seemed shaken, out of it even, something unseen for a man so occupied with remaining composed at any given moment, as if life’s only purpose is to serve up a flawless act of self-preservation. But then comes the big finale and the curtains close.

Not even the crowds cheering for him could have saved Dean Winchester.

But all Castiel can do for now, is think.

He thinks about the fingerprints on skin running cold under icy stares. They will remain there, whether or not the bruises fade as days go by but they will simultaneously remind him why he’s contemplating what he’s about to do. He thinks about Gabriel’s suspicions and Donna’s concerns, how they’d come close to uncovering a truth best left untold. Too close.

But those moments of blind panic during which Cas was forced to believe Mr. Winchester had not made it out of that fight alive were a damn good wake-up call. While, yes, that man is the one who dragged Castiel into this dangerous little niche in the first place, Mr. Winchester is also the only one truly able to keep him safe during their stay at Criminal Central.

After all, Dean is the one with power. _He_ is the one who could walk away untouched from a smoldering building, even if the fire was one forged by his own hand, but Castiel? Castiel would _burn_.

So he lays in bed and thinks harder than he’s ever had to do in his life because if he’s doing this, if he’s right about this, he’s got exactly one shot at it but miss.. and the consequences will most likely be deadly. It’ll come down to having to outsmart the one person who, for the past months, has been able to outsmart him in just about every single way.

How do you beat the person who’s primary goal it has been to beat _you_?

But Castiel has to do this. 

_‘as dying leaves began to fall,_

_I thought ‘’that’s what they do’’,_

_but when snow marched up and claimed its place,_

_my determination conquered too’_

That night, Castiel makes up his mind.

He’s getting out. Even if it will cost him his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist so far:  
> * Chapter 01: Not afraid - Tommee Profitt  
> * Chapter 02 : Broken bones - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 03 : Monsters - Ruelle (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 04 : Control - Halsey  
> * Chapter 05 : Satisfied - Reignwolf  
> * Chapter 06 : Horns - Bryce Fox  
> * Chapter 07 : What he wrote - L. Marling  
> * Chapter 08 : Mercy - S.Mendes (acoust.)  
> * Chapter 09 : Miracle - The Score  
> * Chapter 10 : Bloody city - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 11 : Calm after the storm - Common Linnets  
> * Chapter 12 : Run in the rain - Tom Grennan  
> * Chapter 13 : Keeping me alive - Jonathan Roy  
> * Chapter 14 : Far from home - Sam Tinnesz  
> * Chapter 15 : Holding out for a hero - NBT  
> * Chapter 16 : We've got tonight - Bob Seger  
> * Chapter 17 : You can run - Adam Jones  
> * Chapter 18 : Start a war - Valerie Broussard  
> * Chapter 19 : Where the river ends - OTEP  
> * Chapter 20 : Light up - Isak Danielson  
> * Chapter 21 : Corbeau blanc - Julien Doré  
> * Chapter 22 : Damn your eyes - Beth Hart  
> * Chapter 23 : Delicate - Damien Rice  
> * Chapter 24 : Way down we go - Kaleo  
> * Chapter 25 : Prisoner - Raphael Lake  
> * Chapter 26 : Suga Boom Boom - DL Downer  
> * Chapter 27 : Stole the show - Parson James


End file.
